Heir of Fire: Rowan's POV
by tillwhateverend
Summary: Rowan's POV from Heir of Fire. Rated M because I'm paranoid. Hope you enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone, and welcome to my first story for throne of glass! This is going to be a fanfiction that follows Rowan's POV in HOF, and will hopefully be finished eventually lol! Hope you enjoy! Please leave a review or follow/favorite if you do!**

 **All dialogue and events belong to the lovely SJM. I only own my own interpretation of this beautiful story! Enjoy!**

Rowan had been watching her all morning, and so far the only thing _Adarlan's Assassin_ had done to impress him was manage to not pass out from all the alcohol she had consumed.

Lounging on the roof of a beaten down shop in the slums of Varese, drowning herself in wine and gnawing on teggya bread, the girl could have easily passed for one of the city's street vagrants who had succumbed to the heat. Perched on the roof of a building across the street, Rowan had a perfect view of her, not that there was much to see. The only movements the assassin made were to drink from her now empty bottle of wine and shift her arm in to shield her eyes from the glare of the midday sun. As far as Rowan could tell, the only weapons she was in possession of were the daggers strapped to her sides. They gleamed in the harsh sunlight, freshly sharpened and ready for bloodshed, but their owner looked more inclined to use them to cut a slice of teggya bread than do any actual damage. Besides, if her split lip and bruised cheek were any indication, she preferred other forms of fighting as of late. Lazy, defenseless,and looking for a fight. Brilliant.

The girl had been lying still for so long Rowan was contemplating swooping down and pecking at her, just to see if she'd react, when she heaved herself off the boiling terra-cotta and slowly rose to her feet before stumbling over to the roof's edge and sliding down the buildings drainpipe into the streets below.

 _Finally._ Rowan took off from his perch, gliding down into the alleyway and shifting in a flash of light. _Gods, he'd forgotten how badly this city reeked._ The moment he shifted his senses were flooded with it's stench, only worsened by the sweltering heat. Peering around the corner, Rowan had to fight off a laugh at the sight before him. He had arrived just in time to see an old street hag hissing at the assassin, demanding she find somewhere else to scavenge. Once the woman had stopped her screeching, he waited for the girl to say some self-righteous comment, but she only flinched and stumbled backwards, the apology that passed her lips barely audible even with his Fae senses.

In the wake of the woman's rage she simply stood there and blinked, trying to clear the haze of alcohol from her mind. The street vagrant hissed at her again, even as the girl raised her hands in a placating gesture, and spat at her feet. Honestly, it was a pathetic show on both fronts. The woman was hunched and curled with age, the walking stick she clung to the only thing allowing her to remain upright. Her hair was matted into clumps, surrounding her pockmarked, wrinkled face that was now twisted in an expression halfway between fury and madness.

Then again, the girl wasn't exactly better off. Her clothes were dirty and torn, her face bruised and golden hair tangled with a mixture of sweat and dust. Honestly, Rowan couldn't blame the woman for mistaking her as another scavenger competing for territory.

Having had enough of the street vagrant on assassin-turned-vagrant confrontation, Rowan moved to step out of the shadows. Just as the girl raised her head and caught her reflection in a dusty, cracked window on the side of the building.

Her eyes widened in an expression of shock and disgust as she took stock of her appearance. First, the torn, dirty clothes she wore, stained with the evidence of her rooftop escapades— alcohol and the grease of old teggya bread. Then the circle of dusty curls surrounding her bruised face, neither of which did anything to detract from the _scent_ of her. Gods, she reeked bad enough to rival the city.

From the way the girl wrinkled her nose, she seemed to agree.

A laugh, harsh and cold, escaped Rowan at the flurry of emotions in the girl's eyes. The pure disgust and self-loathing was a welcome, familiar expression. He'd seen it on his own face often enough.

He stepped out of the shadows, and the girl whirled to face him. The moment she saw him, she froze. Silence spread through the alleyway as he prowled closer, so complete it was a miracle the beggars and vagrants huddled in its alcoves were still breathing. The woman who'd been spitting at the girl a moment ago began whimpering.

Their fear, while delicious, was nothing compared to the pure terror emanating from the girl as he approached, as she realized who he was— _what_ he was. Oh, she _knew_. He had begun to doubt it as he had watched her waste away on that rooftop, but she the person his queen had sent him to find.

Any disgust the girl had felt at the sight of herself vanished, the fear that flooded her at the sight of him cutting through the heat blanketing the alleyway like a knife. Her eyes, a dull version of the telltale gold-ringed blue that identified her as an Ashryver, caught on his pointed ears and gleaming canines before following the lines of his face. It was an effort not to laugh again when they widened at the cruel, brutal lines of his tattoo.

Her gaze hardened as she recognized the look in his eyes, the way he moved his body. Rowan could still hear her pounding heart and smell the fear she was so desperately trying to conceal, but he recognized the change in the girl. She was no longer a terrified child faced with a ghost from her past but an assassin marking her opponent, searching for any weaknesses to exploit. From the look on her face, he knew she found none.

Rowan smirked when the girl slid a hand into the folds of her cloak, no doubt reaching for the dagger she had concealed there. A good effort, but a futile one. If the girl was foolish enough to try and attack him, he would be more than willing to teach Adarlan's Assassin how little her steel mattered against five centuries of raw strength and training. It would only take him a single blow to end her life, either with his fists or the sword and knives he was carrying. Not to mention his magic.

Fear had cleared the alcohol-induced haze clouding the girl's eyes, revealing them to be... empty. Empty and dull, with no trace of the fire she possessed.

The girl barely passed for an assassin, let alone the heir to one of the most powerful empires in the world. Her long, golden locks were dull and dusty, her skin burnt by the sun and coated in a layer of sweat and grime. Her lip was split open, the skin cracking in the heat, and coupled with the bruise blossoming across her cheek she looked like she had gotten into a bar fight and lost. Badly. And gods, she _reeked_.

Still, under the stench, Rowan could smell it. Fae blood coursing through her veins, faint and distant after years of disuse, but there. Ready and waiting to be unleashed.

The girl shifted into a defensive position, clutching the handle of her dagger so hard her knuckles turned white. Her other hand flitted up towards her neck, as if she was reaching for something to hold on to.

Rowan grinned at her, feral and wild and savage, and it seemed to shake the girl from her stupor. She took a deep breath before slipping into a slow, sauntering gait as she walked towards him. When she opened her mouth, she somehow managed to make her voice sound confident despite it being a cracking, dry rasp. "Well met, my friend," she purred, her tongue flitting out to wet chapped lips. "Well met indeed."

The girl stopped a few feet away from him, her attempts to hide her fear and racing heartbeat failing miserably. Still, her voice held only bravado as she continued her posturing. "What a lovely surprise. I thought we were to meet at the city walls."

"Let's go," Rowan snapped, turning his back on her as he left the alleyway. He wasn't in the mood to play an assassin's games, or entertain this nonsense. Not when Maeve had sent him all the way to Wendlyn for this... shell of a person, one who couldn't even be bothered to bathe or comb her hair.

The girl hesitated for a moment, but followed. If she was smart, she had likely realized this was a conversation she would prefer to have elsewhere, away from prying eyes and ears. Rowan hadn't missed the look on her face when she'd realized he was Fae. Depending on how much she'd put together, she had likely realized he knew who she was— and who had sent him to find her.

Because the girl now walking steps behind him was not only Adarlan's Assassin or the King's Champion, but Aelin Galathynius. The sole heir to Terrasen, a princess who had been presumed dead along with her parents for almost a decade.

Rowan didn't bother acknowledging her as they made their way through the city. He ignored the stares from its citizens, the whispers that trailed him through alleyways and courtyards. The clamor of Varese's marketplaces was a distant chorus, overshadowed by the heavy silence spreading through the narrow streets as they passed.

They reached the two mares Rowan had purchased from a street vendor earlier that morning, the courtyard he'd left them in empty except for a few people doing their best to remain invisible. If he hadn't been so pissed off, Rowan might have mustered some amusement at the sight.

He mounted his horse and turned expectantly to the girl. She raised her eyebrows slightly, but shrugged at him as she approached the older, russet-colored mare and stuffed her satchel into the saddlebag before saying, "I've known a few brooding warrior-types in my day, but I think you might be the broodiest of them all."

Rowan whipped his head around to glare at her, only to find the girl already smirking up at him."Oh, hello," she purred, her tone far too... relaxed for his liking. "I think you know who I am, so I won't bother introducing myself. But before I'm carted off to gods-knows-where, I'd like to know who _you_ are."

Self-righteous brat. Rowan surveyed the square, the crowd of people doing a piss poor job of pretending they weren't listening to their conversation. He stared at them a moment too long, his gaze hard, and they all scattered. Once he was sure they'd fled, he said, "You've gathered enough about me at this point to have learned what you need to know."

"Fair enough. But what am I to call you?" Rowan seriously debated not answering the question, just to see if it would get under _her_ skin. Then again, it wouldn't do any real harm to tell her his name. Perhaps it would even get her to shut up.

"Rowan," he said, instantly regretting his decision as wicked amusement sparked in the girl's otherwise empty gaze.

"Well, Rowan," she crooned, her voice still sultry despite it's raspiness. "Dare I ask where we're going?"

Rowan debated teaching her a lesson then and there about how she should speak to him, but decided against it. He had a feeling she would only take it as a sign she was succeeding in her attempts to get under his skin. "I'm taking you where you've been summoned."

Rowan waited for the girl to ask _where_ that was, but she was silent as she mounted her horse and nudged it into a walk. He didn't move for a moment, confused at her sudden compliance, until he smelled the fear radiating off of her. Clearly, she wasn't as indifferent about her safety as she wanted him to think.

To Rowan's relief, the girls didn't break her silence the entire ride out of Wendlyn. He was not in the mood to deal with her _or_ her sass, a fact she thankfully seemed to have picked up on. Any more disrespect would have likely ended in bloodshed, and he was _certainly_ not in the mood to tell Maeve he'd murdered the girl before they even left Wendlyn.

It was Rowan who broke the silence when they had ridden a few miles into the forest surrounding the city, and but it was only to tell the girl it was time to make camp for the night. He'd hoped to reach the Cambrian Mountains before sundown, but the girl looked like she was about to pass out if she had to spend another minute on her horse and he really didn't feel like dragging her body through the woods. Whether it was from exhaustion or her preoccupation with her own thoughts, she simply dipped her head in acknowledgment and followed him into the trees.

After a few minutes, the path opened up into a moonlit clearing, and Rowan had to hold back his sigh of relief at the sight of a place to sleep that wasn't a branch or a hole in the side of a mountain. The exhaustion from his three day flight from Doranelle was finally catching up with him. He hadn't even had the energy to laugh at the girl as she had stumbled through the dark, tripping over roots and rocks.

Still, he gathered the dregs of his energy and led the horses to a nearby stream to drink, rubbing them down before returning to the clearing. By the time he was done, Rowan's bones felt like lead, and it was a relief to throw his bags against a tree and collapse beside them. The forest was quiet, but as Rowan sat there breathing in the crisp, clean air his ears caught the sounds of the birds chirping and the wind moving through the trees. It had been too long since he'd spent his nights like this, out in the wilderness with only his own thoughts for company. He'd forgotten what it felt like, the freedom that sleeping and flying under the sun and stars gave him. Of course, there was the fact that this time he was accompanied by a less than favorable traveling partner.

In the distance, he could hear the girl bathing in the stream, scrubbing off the grim and sweat she had acquired during their ride and the weeks she'd spent wasting away in Varese. Rowan forced himself to remain awake and alert until she stumbled back into the clearing. Her arrogance and swagger seemed to have washed away along with the dirt and grime, and with her pale skin washed in silver moonlight and her damp hair she looked... younger. And just as exhausted as he felt.

Without speaking, Rowan offered her some bread and cheese from his pack, ignoring her mumbled thanks in favor of collapsing back against his tree.

Just as he felt his eyes starting to close, the girls voice broke the peaceful quiet.

"Are there so many threats in Wendlyn that we can't risk a fire?"

With some reluctance, Rowan opened his eyes. The girl had settled down against a tree on the other side of the clearing and by the looks of it had already downed all the food he'd given her except for an apple. Her eyes had gone dull again, her golden hair turned silver by the moonlight falling into the clearing through the trees. When he didn't answer her, she stared right back, twirling the apple in one hand.

"Not from mortals," Rowan said, closing his eyes again before he could see her reaction. Still, he sensed her shift into a more defensive position and heard the sound of steel on steel as she drew her dagger. Rowan didn't even bother to lift his head. He'd hear any threats long before anything got close enough to do any real harm. Still, he wasn't stupid to light a fire, not when the skinwalkers were still too close for his comfort.

There was no fear attached to the thought, no hint of self preservation in his desire to avoid inviting unnecessary trouble. Only a bone deep exhaustion, and the comforting sensation of the evening air against his skin. The sound of the wind moving through the trees was soothing, and he allowed that exhaustion to tighten it's grip.

It was in that moment he felt them. The Little Folk.

There were no obvious signs of their presence, only the quiet rustling of branches and the feeling that someone was watching. The Little Folk were only seen if they wanted to be, and it it wasn't for his Fae senses they would have likely remained undetectable as they slipped through the trees.

Or, apparently, an assassin's instincts. Rowan hadn't even moved from his place against the tree, but seconds after he detected the Little Folk he heard the girl gasp. The fear she'd been carrying since Wendlyn faded, replaced by shock and... longing. As if the sight of the Little Folk provoked some deep, buried memory. She had grown up in Terresan, she would have heard stories of the spirits that protected the forest from harm.

After a moment of silence, she whispered three words into the still, attentive night air. "They still live."

Silence, this time without the rustling of the Little Folk, followed her words. Even the birds quieted, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

Rowan didn't open his eyes, even when he felt the girl turn her gaze to him. Somehow, even across the clearing, it managed to burn a hole into his chest. As if she'd managed to tap into her magic and was slowly burning him into ashes with her stare. He ignored it, both that burning sensation and the cold crept into it's place after her eyes left him.

Rowan considered saying something, asking why the appearance of the Little Folk had startled her, but by the time he opened his mouth to speak the girl had already leaned back against her own tree and closed her eyes.

Well, so much for that attempt a conversation. It was for the best, anyway. Why did he care? There would be no reason for him to ever speak to her again after tomorrow, once he'd delivered her to his queen he was done with Aelin Galathynius— and whoever the hell she was pretending to be.

After a moment, Rowan's own breathing deepened and he felt sleep tugging at him, this time with more insistence. Still, even as he slipped off into oblivion, he could sense the Little Folk watching through the trees. As if they had been as entranced by the girl's existence as she has been of theirs.

The next morning, it was once again silent as they rode through the Cambrian Mountains and towards Mistward. Any trace of the swaggering girl he'd met in Wendlyn was long gone, replaced by the defeated shell who had returned from the stream last night. There was no bite, no fire in her gaze, and that was if she spoke at all.

The only time he bothered to break their silently agreed upon silence was to give the girl directions, and she chose to respond with barely-there nods or more often, silence. She didn't speak a full sentence until they reached the watchtowers at Mistward.

"I think I'd rather stay in the woods," she said, her voice once again cracking from lack of use. Still, the attempt at a glib comment wasn't enough to hide the fear in her eyes as she studied the stone fortress in front of them. At least she was smart enough to be afraid, though not as smart as she would have been if she'd never come looking for his queen in the first place.

Rowan gave no sign he was aware of her fear as they rode past the watchtowers and through the gates, or as he led her down the hallways and staircases that led to the room where Maeve had decided to hold court for the evening. She hadn't told him where she'd be, but he didn't need any directions beside the ever present tug of the blood oath around his neck. It was like a leash, and he honestly couldn't tell if it was loosening or tightening the closer he got to her.

Rowan didn't bother to warn the girl before he opened the door and spotted his queen sitting behind the desk, her mouth curving into a smirk as she spoke the words that made her stop dead.

 _"Hello, Aelin Galathynius."_

 **I'm currently typing this at three a.m. on a school night when I have a giant test I should be studying for. Really great judgment right there. Hope you guys liked this! Please review and tell me what you liked/don't like. New chapter coming soon!**

 **UPDATED AS OF 1/28/19**

 **I'm working on rewriting this fic while also continuing to update it, so please be patient with me. Also, to anyone reading this chapter before I revamped it who continued to read this story: thank you! I didn't realize how much of a mess it was, so I'm so grateful you decided to keep reading despite it.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Rowan didn't bother to warn the girl before he opened the door and spotted his queen sitting behind the desk, her mouth curving into a smirk as she spoke the words that made the princess stop dead._

 _"Hello, Aelin Galathynius."_

 **Rowan's POV:**

The moment the words left Maeve's lips, the girl was moving. She skittered backwards towards the door, shock spreading across her face at the sight of his queen leering at her from behind the desk.

It was a matter of seconds before Rowan intercepted her, the girl's body slamming into his as he slid into place behind her. Her fear was like a wave, washing over her and settling at the edges of his magic. He could almost taste it, sharp and biting as it consumed the girl and froze her where she stood. She didn't move, her body pressed so close to Rowan he felt every one of her muscles go taut when he shut the door behind them with a gust of wind.

The scent of her fear flooded the room, sinking into every corner and crevice until the princess was drowning in it.

Maeve was still seated behind the desk, amusement flickering in her cold, immortal gaze as she noted the girl's panic.

With her so close to him, Rowan felt the assassin try and fail to keep from trembling. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for another way out besides the door behind them. At least she had enough sense not to go for her weapons— or his. She had to know he'd cut her down the moment Maeve gave the order, or if she so much as _moved_ in her direction. Then again, by the way the girl's hands were shaking he wasn't sure she could hold a dagger without dropping it.

Still, Rowan wasn't taking any chances. Aelin Galathynius wasn't some weak, spoiled princess. She was an assassin from Adarlan of all places, and likely one of some skill and notoriety if Maeve had chosen him to bring her in. It would be unwise to dismiss her as a threat based on his first impression of her— even if that impression had been, well, awful. Dangerous too, considering Maeve had asked him to remain here while she spoke with the princess. A conversation that was not going to go well if the hungry gleam in his queen's eyes was any indication. She tolerated disrespect even less than he did, and that was saying something. Even if the confidence and bravado the girl had presented in Wendlyn had gone out, easily doused by their journey and Maeve's presence, he had a feeling it wouldn't take much to awaken it.

Maeve didn't blink as she studied the girl. A queen in every sense of the word, one who didn't need a crown or a throne to demonstrate her power. Only a fool would mistake her for anything other than deadly. She was the true embodiment of power, of immortality. Nightmare and legend made flesh.

As if she had heard his thoughts, the girl stopped her trembling. Her fear didn't disappear, but it faded as she forced herself to take a single, shaky breath. A second one followed, then another. The scent of her fear still tugged at him, one of sweat and dying embers, biting at his ice and wind. Rowan ignored it, his attention entirely fixed on the girl in front of him. She had gone still, taking in his queen with empty eyes and an emotionless expression.

She cocked her head to the side, and for a moment Rowan was foolish enough to expect her to bow, to grovel at Maeve's feet. But her head remained raised, and her voice was steady as she addressed his queen. At the sound of the rage in her voice, Rowan reached for the knife at his side as she said, "Aelin Galathynius is _dead."_

The words themselves seemed to put a visible weight on the girl's shoulders. Aelin Galathynius, heir to a kingdom long since burned to ash, with an affinity for fire strong enough she could burn entire cities to the ground. Her gift had been powerful enough news of it had reached Doranelle, where the fear that Aelin Galathynius would one day take her magic beyond Terrasen's borders and across the sea to the city of water and stone. Where she might be powerful enough to pose a threat.

The assassin Rowan had found drunk and wasting away in Wendlyn had once been a princess, a queen born to rule a kingdom that had rivaled Maeve's lands for it's peace and prosperity. Unbelievable, except... he had sensed her magic in that alleyway. It was dormant, buried under years of disuse and fear, but it was _there._

Rowan realized then why his queen had chosen him for this task. Not just to find Aelin Galathynius and bring the princess to her, but to train her as well. Maeve wanted him to teach this girl how to control her magic, how to use it as a weapon, so that she could involve the girl in the schemes already forming in that ancient, wicked mind of hers.

Maeve's mouth curved into a simpering smile, her blood red lips parting to reveal the pointed canines beneath. She spoke then, her black, soulless eyes never once straying from the princess's face.

"Let us not bother with lies."

The words rolled off her tongue with immortal grace, her voice a slick, honeyed croon. It was honestly impressive the girl didn't flinch at the tone, at the way Maeve was baiting her like a predator does prey. The smiles, the threats spoken in purrs and laden with pleasantries, were both part of the mask Maeve used to hide her true nature.

The girl took a single step forward, eyes wide and hands shaking. Rowan relaxed, leaning back against the door. The girl hesitated as she noted the movement, weighing the odds of her making it out of this room alive if she tried to make a run for it. When she realized they weren't in her favors, she finally sank into a bow.

Maeve's lips twitched at the sight of the girl kneeling at her feet, and for the first time since Rowan had entered the room he seriously wondered if the assassin was going to make it out of this encounter with her life. Maeve was enjoying this far too much for this to be a pleasant conversation.

"I suppose with a proper bath, you'll look a good deal like your mother." A cold, merciless remark.

The girl, surprisingly, didn't miss a beat. Her mouth curved into a smirk that was twin to Maeve's, backed by fire instead of his queen's malice. "Had I known who I would be meeting, I might have begged my escort for time to freshen up."

Maeve's eyes flicked in Rowan's direction, a touch of approval in her gaze. "I'm afraid I must bear the blame for the pressing pace. Though I suppose he could have bothered to at least find you a pool to bathe in along the way."

Maeve waved a hand in Rowan's direction. "Rowan is from my sister Mora's bloodline. He is my nephew of sorts, and a member of my household. An extremely distant relation of yours; there is some ancient ancestry linking you."

If she thought anything of the information, the girl didn't it show. "You don't say," she drawled, eyebrows raising in an expression of complete indifference. Rowan had to grind his teeth together to keep from growling.

This princess, assassin, whatever she wanted to call herself, should be on her knees at his queen's feet, not tossing around smug, entitled responses. Rowan waited for the order, ready to show her how to properly speak to his queen, but Maeve just smiled. "You must be wondering why it is I asked Prince Rowan to bring you here."

The girl's temper flared to life at the words, at the tone, and Rowan's hand twitched towards his sword.

"I have been waiting a long, long while to meet you. And as I do not leave these lands, I could not see you. Not with my eyes, at least."

As Maeve spoke, the scent of fear seeped slowly back into the room. "They broke my laws, you know. Your parents disobeyed my commands when they eloped. The bloodlines were too volatile to be mixed, but your mother promised to let me see you after you were born. It would seem that in the eight years after your birth, she was always too busy to uphold her vow."

Maeve's eyes glittered with unconcealed malice. "But now you are here. And a grown woman at that. My eyes across the sea have brought me such strange, horrible stories of you. From your scars and steel, I wonder whether they are indeed true."

Rowan almost laughed. Whatever this girl had done, whatever she'd experienced, it was nothing compared to the horrors and atrocities he'd witnessed over the past centuries. He'd like to see what she would do if faced with even a fraction of his past, his history.

Maeve was still speaking, her eyes flicking in Rowan's direction as she said, "Like the tale I heard over a year ago, that an assassin with Ashryver eyes was spotted by the horned Lord of the North in a wagon bound for—"

"Enough," the girl snapped, nothing but cold fury in her gaze. "I know my own history."

She glanced at Rowan for only a second, but it was long enough to make him feel a hint of curiosity. He wasn't aware of whatever part of her past Maeve was using to try and provoke her, but it was clear she didn't want him to know. Rowan met her glare with cold indifference, ignoring the message in her eyes. _Mind your own damn business._

"I'm an assassin," she said, turning back to Maeve, her temper once again concealed.

This time, Rowan couldn't stop a snort from passing his lips. Assassin she may be, but this _princess_ wouldn't last a minute in the ring with him, or any other Fae for that matter.

"And your other talents? What has become of them?" Hunger crept in Maeve's voice, her nostrils flaring as she tried to scent a trace of the magic she sought.

"Like everyone else on my continent, I haven't been able to access them," the girl snapped, her voice tight with barely concealed rage.

"You're not on your continent anymore."

Maeve's voice had gone quiet, the same way the girl's had moments before. She, at least, seemed to remember who she was speaking with after his queen's sudden change of tone. Rowan shifted forward, ready to intervene in case the conversation turned violent.

"Show me," Maeve purred. Not a request, but an order.

The fire I had sensed hidden beneath the girl's skin in that alleyway flickered to life at the primal command in his queen's voice. Maeve leaned forward, her gaze sharp and probing, as if she was trying to coax the magic out of the girl herself. I waited for the girl to start shaking again, but instead she clenched her fists and hardened her gaze. Maeve was trying to force her way into the girl's thoughts, to force the magic out of her.

It didn't work.

After a few long, tense moments Maeve sank back into her chair with a low laugh. "Your mother hid you from me for years. She and your father always had a remarkable talent for knowing when my eyes were searching for you. Such a rare gift— the ability to summon and manipulate flame. So few exist who possess more than an ember of it, fewer still who can master it's wildness. And yet your mother wanted you to stifle your power-— though she knew I only wanted you to submit to it."

Maeve smirked before saying her final line. "Look how well that turned out for them."

The girl tensed, the scent of her rage creeping into the room like tendrils of smoke. When she looked at his queen, the look in her eyes was nothing short of feral. Rowan reached for his sword. If she so much as blinked at Maeve wrong...

But the girl managed to collect herself, her fists unclenching even as she said, "And where were you ten years ago?"

Maeve tilted her head to the side. "I do not take kindly to being lied to."

The girl's rage flickered out, replaced by horror.

That was why Maeve had refused to aid Terrasen all those years. Not because she lacked the resources or the ability, not because she wanted to protect her own kingdom, but because of a grudge against it's queen for denying her.

Maeve kept talking, ignoring the girl's obvious shock. "I have no more time to spare you. Let me be brief: my eyes have told me that you have questions. Questions that no mortal has the right to ask—about the keys."

That* was what the girl wanted from Maeve? Information about the wyrdkeys? Maeve hadn't mentioned it to him, but by the look on the girl's face it was true.

The assassin opened her mouth, but Maeve stopped her with a hand before she could speak. "I will give you those answers. You may come to me in Doranelle to receive them."

The girl's temper flared to life. "Why not—"

Rowan cut her off with a growl, fighting the urge to tear out her tongue for interrupting his queen.

Maeve didn't even glance at him, continuing on as if she hadn't been interrupted at all. "Because they are answers that require time, and answers you have not yet earned."

"Tell me what I can do to earn them and I will do it," the girl said, panic creeping into her voice.

A fool's response. Maeve could demand anything she wanted of the girl, and his queen never got the short side of a bargain.

"A dangerous thing to offer without hearing the price," Maeve purred, echoing his thoughts.

"You want me to show you my magic? I'll show it to you. But not here. Not—"

Maeve brushed her off with a wave of her hand. "I have no interest in seeing you drop your magic at my feet like a sack of grain. I want to see what you can do with it, Aelin Galathynius- which currently seems like not very much at all. I want to see what you will become under the right circumstances."

The girl had the nerve to interrupt her again. "I don't—"

"I do not permit mortals or half-breeds into Doranelle. For a half-breed to enter my realm she must prove herself both gifted and worthy. Mistward, this fortress, is one of several proving grounds. And a place where those who do not pass the test can spend their days."

"And what manner of test might I expect before I am deemed worthy?" It was clear she was exercising every ounce of control she possessed not to spit the words at Maeve's feet.

How long would it take the girl to meet Maeve's standards? Months? Years? Rowan couldn't remember the last time a half-breed had entered Doranelle from Mistward, and he seriously doubted the girl would be one of the few to do so.

Maeve's eyes met Rowan's from across the room, amusement dancing in her gaze. She was enjoying this. "You shall come to me once Prince Rowan decides that you have mastered your gifts. He shall train you here. And you shall not set foot in Doranelle until he deems your training complete."

Rowan looked at the girl, expecting her to protest, to refuse, but there was only anger in her gaze. A whole damn lot of it.

"What I need to know isn't something that can wait—"

"You want answers regarding the keys, heir of Terrasen? Then they shall be waiting for you in Doranelle. The rest is up to you."

The girl paused, any fight she had possessed fading. She tilted her head to the side, studying Maeve. "Truthfully. You will truthfully answer my questions about the keys."

"You haven't forgotten all our ways then," Maeve said, smirking.

The girl didn't even blink.

Maeve just smiled. "I will truthfully answer all your questions about the keys."

The girl opened her mouth, but Maeve cut her off. "Prince Rowan shall explain the specifics. For now, he will escort you to your chamber to rest."

The girl didn't move to leave , her eyes narrowing. "You swear you'll tell me what I need to know?"

"I do not break my promises. And I have the feeling that you are unlike your mother in that regard too."

The girl's anger flared to life for a moment, but was almost immediately replaced by that cold emptiness she'd had in her eyes before. "To what end? You want me to train only so I can make a spectacle of my talents?"

Maeve smiled, and the world went still. "I wish you to become who you were born to be. To become queen."

 **Ugh I hate how this turned out. Sorry it's so short, but I wanted to get an update out for you guys! The next chapters will be longer I promise. Thank you for all the love on the first chapter!**

 **UPDATED: 1/30/19**


	3. Chapter 3

_"To what end? You want me to train only so I can make a spectacle of my talents?"_

 _Maeve smiled, and the world went still. "I wish you to become who you were born to be. To become queen."*_

 **Rowan's POV:**

As Rowan led Aelin Galathynius through the halls of Mistward, it took all of the self control he'd gathered over the last three centuries to stop himself from slamming her into a wall.

The princess had left the meeting with Maeve in a huff, storming from the room without so much as a goodbye. Rowan had been ready to drag her back kicking and screaming and force her to give his queen the respect she deserved, but Maeve had just nodded at him to let her pass.

His queen's attitude had done nothing to help Rowan's rage. If anything, her indifference had only made it worse. The princess had disrespected her more than a dozen times during that conversation, and Maeve hadn't only tolerated it— she'd been _amused_ by it. Rowan would normally brush it off as nothing, but he still didn't know what his queen was planning for the girl. Despite her reputation, Maeve wasn't one to keep secrets. Whatever plans she had for Aelin Galathynius, they were nefarious enough she hadn't defined to share them with him.

No matter what she wanted with the girl, his queen had her reasons but it didn't change the infuriating truth that she'd given him, a warrior honed by three centuries of battle, one who had walked on and off killing fields, the task of babysitting a princess-turned-assassin with an attitude problem. Honestly, it would have been amusing if he wasn't so furious.

Rowan glanced over his shoulder. The girl was trailing a few steps behind him, her eyes trained on the ground in an obvious attempt to avoid his gaze. Even with a few feet of space between them he could sense the rage simmering beneath her skin. She was just as pissed as he was about this entire gods-damned situation, a fact that was equally comforting and infuriating. Now, the question was just which one of them would snap first.

Unsurprisingly, the princess started it.

Rowan had begun to think he would make it to his rooms without losing it, that he might be able to avoid starting a brawl on their first night of training when—

"You must be very important to Her Immortal Majesty if she put you on nurse duty."

As the words rolled of the girl's tongue they were accompanied by the same arrogant tone she'd used in Wendlyn, the combination making it an effort not to kick her ass then and there.

Rowan waited until he was positive he could open his mouth without growling to say, "Given your history, she didn't trust anyone but her best to keep you in line."

Honestly, Rowan had no idea why Maeve had chosen _him_ of all people for this task. Fenrys had been more than happy to volunteer, and would likely have charmed the girl into his bed by now instead of fighting with her. Then again, Fenry's interest in the princess had been an attempt to escape Maeve's clutches more than anything.

"Playing warrior in the woods doesn't seem like the greatest indicator of talent."

Oh, she wanted this. The girl knew precisely what she was asking for by provoking him, she _wanted_ him to retaliate, to push back.

Well, if a fight was what she wanted Rowan was more than willing to deliver.

"I fought on killing fields long before you, your parents, or your grand-uncle were even born," he said, a bolt of satisfaction running through him when he saw her jaw twitch ever so slightly. It was the only sign that her mask of bravado had cracked, but it was enough that he knew the dig at her family, at her pride, had struck a chord. Just like he'd known it would. Her arrogance, like any emotion when not properly controlled, made her an easy mark.

"Who's to fight here except birds and beasts?" The girl managed to drag enough nonchalance up from whatever reserves of confidence she kept to deliver the snide remark, but the words were clipped despite her efforts.

"The world is a far bigger and more dangerous place than you can imagine, girl. Consider yourself blessed to receive any training— to have the chance to prove yourself," Rowan shot back, hoping the comment would find her pride like the last one had.

"I've seen plenty of this big and dangerous world, princeling," she snarled, drawing a short, harsh laugh out of him.

"Just wait, Aelin," Rowan said, smirking as he watched his use of her real name hit her like a physical blow.

He'd seen the way she'd reacted when Maeve had said it, how she'd coiled into herself at the reminder of her past. It was no different this time, her gaze going hard as she said, "Don't call me that."

Rowan grinned. The look in her eyes, the tone of her voice... he should drop this. It was obviously affecting her, and it wouldn't take much more to push either of them over the edge right now. He should, but Rowan was not in the mood to be the bigger person tonight. Tonight, all he wanted was a release for his anger, and if this princess was willing to provide him with one he wasn't about to turn her down. "It's your name. I'm not going to call you anything different."

The moment the words passed his lips she was standing in front of him, blocking his access to the rest of the hallway. "No one here can know who I am. Do you understand?"

She was as close as she'd been when Rowan had stopped her from escaping Maeve only this time the raw, biting scent of her fear was replaced by a hollow, empty rage. There was no spark to her words, no flames flickering in her gaze. As if the deal she'd made with his queen had snuffed out the last remaining ember's of her fire.

That dead look in her eyes found the rage roiling beneath his skin and dug in like a knife. Rowan had seen the same expression on his own face a thousand times, knew what it felt like to be so empty and dead inside it was a relief to feel anything, _anything_ at all. The sight of it was familiar enough to be painful, and when he said his next words Rowan made sure they were filled with as much disdain and loathing as he could muster. "My aunt has given me a harder task than she realizes, I think."

The girl's eyes narrowed, and there was nothing but pure, blinding hatred in her gaze as she snarled, "Fae like you make me understand the King of Adarlan's actions a bit more, I think."

Those word's, foul and hateful and cruel, snapped the already fraying restraints Rowan had placed on himself and before the girl could realize her mistake, his fist slammed into her face.

The force of the blow sent the girl stumbling backwards, the smell of her blood filling the air as her head slammed into the wall. Slowly, after a moment of heavy breathing and muffled groans, she stood and locked gazes with him. Her eyes didn't leave Rowan's as she brought a hand up to her freshly split lip, or when it came away coated with blood. Then, through the blood dripping down her face, she grinned at him.

Rowan brought his arm up for another strike, but stopped himself before his fist connected with her jaw and snarled, a sound low and vicious enough it would have lesser men shaking in their boots. The girl didn't even flinch, her mouth curving into a smirk as she purred, "Do it."

The words were a taunt, but also a plea. He knew exactly what the girl wanted, and it was for him to hit her until she felt _something_. If he gave in to his rage, he'd only be satisfying that wish. Even if the desire to beat her into unconsciousness was tempting, it wouldn't do anything to teach her discipline or respect.

So Rowan leashed his rage, smirking as he leaned in until they were face to face and said, "Why should I give you what you want?"

The girl glared at him, clearly irritated he hadn't risen to the bait. "You're just as useless as the rest of your brethren."

Rowan let out a soft, scathing laugh."If you're that desperate to eat stone, go ahead: I'll let you try to land the next punch."

The girl bristled at the invitation, her rage boiling over and into the air with it's now familiar notes of ash and dying embers. She swung at him, her arm moving through the air so slowly it was laughable. Rowan dodged the blow easily, and the girl's fist struck nothing but air. Before the princess could make another attempt to hit him, Rowan sent her crashing into the wall with a single strike to the back of her leg.

The girl was only on her feet for a moment, swearing and spitting blood into the stone, before she saw the smirk on his face and lunged at Rowan— and right into the brazier behind him.

The sound echoed in the silent hallway, and Rowan let out a low, wicked chuckle at the girl's obvious efforts to try and hold back her groans. "Like I said, you have a lot to learn. About everything," Rowan sneered.

The princess bared her teeth around her already swollen lip and growled, "Go to hell you insufferable bastard."

Rowan just turned his back on her said, "Next time you say anything like that I'll have you chopping wood for a month."

The girl's shame and rage sunk into the space between them as he led her down the rest of the hallway and into her room. Rowan had to admit, it was low standards even for Maeve. The room was small, with the stone walls doing nothing to preserve the heat. It would be freezing at night. Not that he cared. The girl was probably used to silk sheets and round the clock service, it would be amusing to watch her struggle to live like the rest of them. With that in mind, Rowan turned to her and said, "Give me your weapons."

The girl straightened, eyes wide. "Why? And no."

Rowan didn't bother answering her, grabbing a bucket of water and pouring it out into the hall before holding it out to the girl and repeating himself. "Give me your weapons."

"Tell me why," the girl demanded, crossing her arms and staring at him. As if that was going to do anything.

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Then we're going to have another brawl."

Rowan had to laugh at that. She called _that_ a brawl? "Starting at dawn, you'll earn your keep by helping in the kitchen. Unless you plan to murder everyone in the fortress, there is no need for you to be armed. Or to be armed while we train. So I'll keep your daggers until you've earned them back."

The girl just stared at him. "The kitchen?"

Rowan grinned at her, wicked enough to make sure she understood what he thought of her. "Everyone pulls their weight here. Princesses included. No one's above some hard labor, least of all you."

"So my training includes being a scullery maid?"

"Part of it," Rowan said, still grinning. He was going to enjoy watching this princess get her hands dirty— and giving her hell while they trained until she *preferred* her work as a scullery maid.

"For an old bastard you certainly haven't bothered to learn manners at any point in your long existence," she snapped.

"Why should I waste flattery on a child who's already in love with herself?"

The girl's gaze hardened. "We're related, you know."

"We've as much blood in common as I do with the fortress pig-boy."

Her nostrils flared, but Rowan had lost both the desire and the energy required to fight her. He held out the bucket again, hiding his shock perfectly when the girl began stripping herself of her weapons instead of slamming the pail back into his face. He counted every knife and sword she threw inside, making sure they were all accounted for before turning his back on her and heading towards the door.

The only goodbye he gave before slamming it in her face was to tell her to be ready at dawn for training.

"Was it really necessary to hit her, Rowan?"

Five minutes after he'd stripped the girl of her weapons and left her in her room Rowan was kneeling in front of his queen as she smirked down at him. He'd been on his way to his own rooms when he'd felt the bond go taught, her summons reaching him across the fortress through stone walls and winding staircases. No matter how far he went, whether it was to this fortress or entire continents away, that oath would always be with him. There was no hope of escaping it, even if he wanted to. His brother was a living example of that undeniable truth.

"She deserved it," he said, keeping his head bowed. Maeve was dangerous when she was like this, all false pleasantries and hidden jabs.

"Oh, she certainly did, but I wouldn't want our new queen in training to have any excuses to justify her... performance. Send her some healing salve, tell her I wish her a quick recovery," Maeve said, her black eyes glinting with unconcealed malice.

Knowing his queen was about to end their conversation, Rowan tried once more to convince her she'd made the wrong choice in sending him here. Normally, he wouldn't have cared. Rowan didn't think, he followed orders, and had it been anyone else he would have trained them without question. But this girl... this girl was dangerous, and not because of the fire she wielded. Over the past three centuries, he'd never met someone with that familiar look in their eyes. It had put him on uneven footing, a sensation he didn't enjoy after centuries of ice and numbness.

"Are you sure I'm the best one to teach the girl? Fenrys would be better suited, or perhaps Gavriel—" Maeve waved her hand, and Rowan immediately stopped talking.

"I won't hear anymore complaints from you, Rowan. I have my reason for having you train Aelin Galathynius. You've never questioned me before, and I hope you're not about to start now," Maeve snapped, her immortal, unflinching gaze going hard with the words.

"My apologies, my Queen," Rowan said, bowing his head again.

Maeve stared at him for a long moment, deciding if his apology was sufficient enough to avoid further... persuasion.

"Well, if there's nothing else, I think I'll be going."

The word's, the tone, left no room for argument. Rowan knew better than to question Maeve, and yet he'd done it anyway. It was the second mistake that girl had caused him to make. He wouldn't allow there to be a third.

Rowan was so focused on keeping his mouth shut he almost missed Maeve's next words.

"I suppose it will be interesting," she crooned, glancing at him over her shoulder.

"What?" The question passed Rowan's lips before he could stop himself.

"To see which one of you tears the other apart first."

 **Hello everybody! I am so sorry this chapter took me so long to get up, I had exams this past week and it's been pure, unending torture. I want to thank everyone who read/favorited/reviewed this story, you have no idea how happy it makes me to know you like my writing! I added the final scene with Maeve and Rowan myself, so I'm sorry if that dialogue was a little OOC.! If you enjoyed this chapter, please don't hesitate to let me know with a review, or let me know what I should do differently! Thank you for reading!**

 **UPDATED AS OF 2/5/19**


	4. Chapter 4

_"I suppose it will be interesting," Maeve crooned, glancing at Rowan over her shoulder._

 _"What?"_

 _"To see which one of you tears the other apart first."_

 **Rowan's POV:**

Maeve's final words followed Rowan all through the night and into the next day. His inability to shake them was infuriating, enough that he woke before dawn to see if a flight would clear his head.

It hadn't, and as Rowan made his way down to the kitchens his thoughts were once again occupied by a certain smart-mouthed assassin.

After their brawl last night, if you could even call it that, Rowan had been ready to leave the girl licks her wounds in peace. He'd told one of the demi-Fae to bring her bathing supplies and a change of clothes, had been ready to leave it at that but... Maeve was right. He didn't want to give the girl an excuse for what would undoubtedly be a poor performance today. Even though the princess had deserved every blow he'd dealt her. The comment she'd made, the implication that any of Adarlan's actions against the Fae had been justified... she'd deserved much more than a punch to the face for that insult alone. He'd said as much in the note he'd tied to the tin of healing salve he'd sent to her rooms.

Rowan made sure none of the rage roiling beneath the wall of ice he'd constructed to contain his rising temper showed as he entered the kitchens.

The room went still and silent the moment he crossed the threshold. Emrys and Luca stopped their work, the cook inclining his head in Rowan's direction while Luca studied with a familiar expression of fear and awe.

Rowan ignored them both.

He had to admit, he hadn't expected her to show up. He'd assumed the kitchens would be empty, had hoped it would give him and excuse to drag the princess from her bed and give her hell for shirking her responsibilities.

Rowan shoved down that faint echo of disappointment, turning his attention to where the princess stood by the hearth. Even after bathing and with a fresh set of clothes, she looked... haunted. The gaunt contours of her face were framed by her hair, damp and colorless even in the warm light of the fire. The salve he'd given her had brought down the swelling in her lip, but the color remained. Rowan didn't bother to hide his smirk, even if the sight of her, half-dead and hollowed out, had some long buried emotion stirring in his chest.

Rowan ignored that too. Outside of their training, there would be no reason to involve himself in the princesses personal life. Despite her current appearance, he doubted she'd faced much hardship throughout her pampered existence. The next few months would certainly make up for it.

Without so much as acknowledging her presence, Rowan turned to Emrys and said, "Your new scullery maid for the morning shift. After breakfast, I have her for the rest of the day."

Silence followed as Rowan waited for the girl to introduce herself. He remembered how she'd reacted to Maeve's use of her real name. She may be an insufferable brat, but Rowan understood the desire to remain anonymous. He'd decided to grant her that privilege, even if she hadn't earned it.

When the princess didn't speak, Rowan turned to her and cocked his head in answer. _You wanted to remain unidentified, so go ahead, Princess. Introduce yourself however you want._

After a moment of consideration, the girl spoke in a choked whisper. As if the words themselves were painful to speak. "Elentiya. My name is Elentiya."

It was then Emrys chose to bow, Luca quickly following suit. Rowan fought the urge to order both of them to their feet. "So good of you to find us additional help, Prince," he said before addressing the girl. "Ever work in a kitchen?"

Aelin shook her head, and Rowan almost laughed. He doubted she'd ever *seen* the inside of a kitchen, let alone worked in one.

"Well, I hope you're a fast learner and quick on your feet."

"I'll do my best."

Good. Rowan had a feeling if she'd snapped at Emrys he would have found it difficult to not throw her into the crackling hearth.

With that irritation still roiling beneath his skin, Rowan turned and walked out the door.

Rowan entered the kitchen hours later to find the girl half-slumped over a table, picking at the plate of food in front of her. He resisted the urge to ask Emrys if she'd actually done anything all morning.

The kitchen went quiet as Emrys and Luca noticed his presence. The princess lifted her head, giving him a bored stare before returning her gaze to her plate.

"Let's go," was all Rowan said, refusing to look back and see if she followed as he stormed back out the door. A few seconds later, her footsteps sounded behind him.

Neither of them spoke as he led them up the stairs, pass the wards, and into the woods. Rowan was almost impressed by the princesses newfound ability to keep her mouth shut.

By the time they'd reached the ruins Rowan had scoped out during his early morning flight, the silence between them was a tangible thing. Rowan already regretted breaking it as he turned to her and said, "Do your worst."

The princess, soaked to the skin by the early morning mist and shivering from the cold, just smirked at him.

"Wipe that smarmy, lying smile off your face," Rowan growled, resisting the urge to punch her again.

The princesses smile, as expected, only grew at the ire Rowan knew was burning in his gaze. Her eyes glittered with satisfaction at the knowledge she had succeeded in getting under his skin as she said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Rowan stepped towards her, teeth bared, and snarled, "Here's your first lesson, girl: cut the horseshit. I don't feel like dealing with it, and I'm probably the only one who doesn't give a damn about how angry and vicious and awful you are underneath."

She didn't even flinch. "I don't think you particularly want to see how angry and vicious and awful I am underneath."

Rowan would have laughed at that, if the rage now writhing against his self control left any room for amusement. If this princess, this _girl_ who was... what? Twenty? Not even? If she thought her darkness could even _compare_ to his...

The wall of ice inside Rowan's chest shuttered.

"Go ahead and be as nasty as you want, Princess, because I've been ten times as nasty, for ten times longer than you've been alive."

The girl stopped smiling. Any of the lingering amusement in her expression vanished, replaced by a roaring tempest of fury and indignation.

She bared her teeth in an echo of a growl. Rowan buried his rage and said, "Better. Now shift."

"It's not something I can control."

"If I wanted excuses, I'd ask for them. _Shift_."

Some other emotion flickered in the girl's eyes, but it was gone before Rowan could recognize it. The princess crossed her arms and gave him a long, haughty once over. "I hope you brought snacks, because we're going to be here a long, long while if today's lesson is dependent upon my shifting."

"You're really going to make me enjoy training you," Rowan snarled, his rage once again pounding against that wall of ice with a vengeance.

The girl didn't even blink. "I've already participated in a dozen versions of the master-disciple training saga, so why don't we just cut that horseshit too?"

That was it. Roman had had enough of _her_ horseshit. He forced the wild storm of rage still churning inside of him to cool, icing it over with his magic as he said, "Shut your smart-ass mouth and shift."

" _No._ "

Aelin recognized Rowan's order for what it was a moment too late.

Surprisingly, she managed to dodge his first strike, sidestepping the fist he'd thrown at her face. Rowan lunged again, and Aelin twisted out of reach. But that was where her luck ran out.

All it took was a single blow to the back of her legs, the same maneuver he'd used to take her down in the hallway the night before, to have Aelin on the ground. She fell, already turning her body to catch herself, but not fast enough to avoid whacking her head against the rocks. The princess rolled onto her back a moment later, her eyes glazed with pain, and Rowan pounced. She didn't have the strength to fight him off as he straddled her, his thighs pressing into her ribs.

The girl didn't try and break his hold, didn't even move. She just laid there, gasping for breath, her expression empty as she met Rowan's hard gaze.

"Shift," he hissed, digging his knees into her ribs for emphasis.

The princess let out a cold, wretched laugh.

"Nice try," she panted, a line of blood dripping down her brow. Rowan let more of his weight fall on her, thinking it would provoke her, but she just let out another rasping laugh.

"You think you can trick me into shifting by pissing me off?"

Rowan let loose a snarl, his anger rising to the surface. This girl, this wretched excuse for a person, for a princess, was who Maeve expected him to turn into a warrior. Not just a warrior, but a weapon— a puppet for his queen to control.

Aelin either didn't notice his growing desire to kill her, or she chose to ignore it as she continued speaking. He suspected the latter. "Here's an idea," she drawled, arrogance lacing every syllable. "I'm rich as hell. How about we pretend to do this training for a week or so, and then you tell Maeve I'm good and ready to enter her territory, and I'll give you all the gods-damned gold you want."

A cracking sound echoed in Rowan's head as the barrier of ice he'd been struggling to keep intact crumbled, and he didn't bother checking his rage as he bared his teeth inches from the princesses neck.

"Here's an idea," he growled against her neck. He was an inch away from tearing out her throat. "I don't know what the hell you've been doing for ten years, other than flouncing around and calling yourself an assassin. But I think you're used to getting your way. I think you have no control over yourself. No control, and no discipline— not the kind that counts, deep down. You are a child, and a spoiled one at that. And—"

Rowan paused, considering what insult would hurt her the most. The arrogance, that pride... he knew where to strike.

"You are a coward."

Those four words, like the bribe she'd offered him, were what finally managed to crack any remaining control the princess had kept on herself. She began writhing beneath him, rage radiating off of her in waves as she tried and failed to dislodge him. Rowan somehow knew that if he hadn't had her pinned, she would have clawed his face off.

It was the exact reaction he'd wanted.

Rowan leered, sneering down at her. "Don't like that word? _Coward_. You're a coward who has run for ten years while innocent people were burned and butchered as you sat by and watched—"

Rowan stopped speaking.

Aelin had gone still beneath him. She had ceased her struggling, her violent attempts to break his hold. Now, she was still and silent, her expression void of emotion.

As if she'd stopped listening to him entirely.

It should have infuriated him even further, the blatant dismissal but... he'd seen that look in the eyes of his soldiers a thousand times. It was an expression he knew all too well, born of grief and loss and pain. He saw it every time he looked in the mirror. After Lyria—

Rowan didn't let that final thought form. Instead, he stood and said, "Get up."

She didn't.

" _Get up._ "

When she ignored the snarled order, still and lifeless even without his weight pressing down on her, Rowan yanked the princess to her feet.

And it was that look, the familiar emptiness in her eyes that made him grab her face between his hands and snarl, "Pathetic. Spineless and pathetic."

The princess met Rowan's stare, and there was something like determination in her gaze as she closed her eyes. For a moment, he waited. Waited to see if she could drag up any remnants of her power.

When she opened her eyes, they were empty again— hopeless.

Fine. If she didn't have it in her, Rowan wasn't going to waste his time. Honestly, nothing would make him happier than to return to Doranelle, to his Queen's side, and never have to see this girl or her empty, lifeless eyes again. If she wanted an out, he'd give her an out. And since she didn't seem to think it worth her time to fight him... perhaps he could teach her a lesson on who the true monsters were.

UPDATED AS OF 4/20*


	5. Chapter 5

_Fine. If she didn't have it in her, Rowan wasn't going to waste his time. Honestly, nothing would make him happier than to return to Doranelle, to his Queen's side, and never have to see this girl or her empty, lifeless eyes again. If she wanted an out, he'd give her an out. And since she didn't seem to think it worth her time to fight him... perhaps he could teach her a lesson on who the true monsters were._

 **Rowan's POV:**

Rowan didn't bother sharing his plans with the princess.

In fact, Rowan didn't bother speaking to her at all as they left the temple ruins and began the trek to the barrow fields.

By the time they reached the edges of the grassy plateau, the girl was swaying on her feet. A line of blood had dried down the right side of her face from when her head had slammed into the rock, a bruise blossoming on her cheek. But none of it compared to the look in her eyes. Empty and hard and lifeless.

Rowan ignored it, drawing a sword and dagger from their sheaths and turning to face the princess. Her gaze hardened as she studied the fields behind him. As she noticed the barrows, the way they seemed to breathe and live with that strange, ancient energy.

"I had planned to wait until you had some handle on your power— planned to make you come at night, when the barrow-wights are really something to behold, but consider this a favor, as there are few that will dare come out in the day. Walk through the mounds— face the wights and make it to the other side of the field, Aelin, and we can go to Doranelle whenever you wish."

It was a trap, and Aelin would be a fool not to know it. There wasn't a chance in hell she'd be able to take on the wights. Not in her current state, not with such little control over her magic. It was impossible.

But... perhaps there was a chance. Rowan hadn't lied to her about the wights nature, they truly did prefer to come out at night. Perhaps this _assassin_ had a trick or two up her sleeve. Perhaps they could both be rid of each other.

The princess glanced at Rowan's weapons, and he rasped a laugh. Then, shrugging, he said, "You can either wait to earn back your steel or you can enter as you are now."

The girl's temper spiked, and embers sparked to life in her empty eyes as she hissed, "My bare hands are weapons enough."

Rowan just flashed a grin at her, one he knew would get her blood boiling, and lazily made his way towards the maze of hills. The princess followed, their footsteps echoing in the silent, still air as they skirted the barrows. Not even the birds dared to sing here.

The hills opened up into a clearing, a circle of dead grass with a crumbling barrow at its center.

Rowan could heat the princesses heart pounding in her chest.

"I leave you here," he said, making sure she took note of his savage grin. "I'll meet you on the other side of the field."

He waited, expecting her to bolt then and there, to run back to Mistward with her tail between her legs. If he was being honest, anyone with sense would have.

Perhaps it was the taunts he'd hurled at her earlier, perhaps it was whatever drove her wretched existence, but the princess simply nodded and stepped onto the field towards the barrow and the ancient, wicked darkness swirling beneath its surface.

The girl's heart was beating a frantic, panicked pace, the scent of her fear strong enough to reach Rowan even as she reached the center of the clearing. But she kept her steps slow, her pace unhurried as she neared the rock and the wight inside it.

Rowan kept his attention half on the girl and half on the wight hovering at the rocks threshold, writhing with that ancient hunger. He planned to intervene before the girl came to any real harm. Maeve wouldn't appreciate it if he returned to her with spoiled goods, even if an encounter with the barrow wights might give the girl a much needed attitude adjustment.

Still, the wight lingered, hesitating. Perhaps it could sense the magic buried beneath the girl's bones, was simply waiting for the right moment to strike. And yet...

The cold reached Rowan first.

The air went stale and still in the space of a single heartbeat, a pulsing chill running along his spine. There was a keening sound in the back of Rowan's mind, as if someone were screaming.

The girl began running.

Because the wight... the wight was not waiting for the right moment to attack. The wight was afraid.

Aelin was sprinting past the barrow. The wight made no attempt to stop her. She was stumbling, a hand hovering close to her ear. She was only a few steps from the edge of the dead grass when she froze.

It was then Rowan saw it. A figure, standing behind the barrow.

Rowan leashed his magic, the ice and wind coiling inside of him, preparing to strike. He marked a pale, beautiful face framed by long, flowing hair, a neck encased by a collar of onyx, before it and the girl were plunged into darkness. An infinite pool of inky blackness, as if the creature had encased itself in a starless night.

But it hadn't vanished. Rowan could sense it's power, roiling in the darkness with a cold, merciless hunger. Whatever it was, it wasn't natural. No, this creature wasn't of this world. It was something else. Something _wrong._ His own magic recoiled, but Rowan simply tightened his hold.

Because even as that wrongness crept into his bones, urging him to flee, he could still sense the princess inside the cloud of darkness that had descended on the field. He could smell the scent of the pure, undiluted terror seeping from it, her fear tugging at his senses, that male urge to protect and defend against any threat.

But just as Rowan moved to intervene, the princess emerged from the darkness. She ran through the grass, stumbling in her terror as a hoarse shriek tore from her lips. She collapsed at Rowan's feet, the tang of her fear sharpening his senses as she retched. After a few moments, she began to sob, her panic escaping her in a series of hurried gasps.

And as she lay there, sobbing and retching, Rowan noticed her ears. They were sharpening into points. He waited, watching as the girl began to shift, but as soon as they had fully taken form they disappeared. Aelin shrieked, the air suddenly filled with a crackling energy as her power surged. Another shriek, this time accompanied by a flash of fangs. Any control she'd had on her Fae form was cracking under the weight of her fear, causing her to shift between human and Fae in matter of seconds.

"Focus," Rowan growled, but Aelin remained curled in a fetal position, twitching on the ground.

Rowan loosed a snarl of frustration as he leaned down to pick up her limp form, only to find her clothes soaked in vomit and piss. Remnants of whatever terror she'd felt while in the creatures grasp no doubt, but there was no way Rowan would be carrying her.

Rowan scanned the field for the creature, but it was empty. The scent of fear and death and wrongness still lingered, but whatever is was, it was long gone. If he had any sense, he'd leave the girl and hunt it down himself but... perhaps she could be useful. If he was going to kill it, he had to know what he was up against.

With no small amount of sighing and snarling, Rowan managed to drag the girl back to a clearing in the woods. While he waited for her to wake, Rowan contemplated how exactly he would make the creature suffer. He had never seen anything like it, or heard any stories about creatures that could invoke fear in a person like that.

The sounds of the princess stirring reached his ears, and Rowan turned as she slowly rose to her feet, eyes frantically searching the clearing until she noticed him. Irritation flashed in her eyes before she looked down at her soiled clothes, her face flushing red with shame. In any other situation, Rowan might have laughed at the rare show of humility.

But Rowan could only bring himself to feel one emotion: rage. She could have died on that field, could have gotten them both killed due to her lack of control.

"No discipline, no control, and no courage," Rowan snarled at her. "You failed.

You made it to the other side of the field but I said to face the wights– not throw a magical temper tantrum."

Any of the girls prior embarrassment vanished, melting into a rage similar to his own. "I will kill you," she snarled right back, her voice still hoarse from screaming. "How dare you—"

"That was not a wight, princess," Rowan said, keeping his eyes on the trees.

Aelin just glared at him. "What was it then?"

"I don't know."

Rowan felt his jaw clench at the admission.

"We've had skinwalkers on the prowl for weeks, roaming down from the hills to search for human pelts, but this... this was something different. I have never encountered its like, not in these lands or any other. Thanks to having to drag you away, I don't think I'll learn anytime soon."

Rowan looked at the girl then, but her anger had faded, her eyes once again empty of emotion. "It was gone when I circled back," he told her. "Tell me what happened. I saw only darkness, and when you emerged, you were... different."

The girl looked down at herself, as if checking if she was still all there. She still wore the evidence of her retching and the tear tracks on her face did nothing to hide the paleness of her skin. As if that creature had sucked the very life from her. Any pity he might have felt vanished as she hissed her next words at him.

"No. And you can go to hell."

"Other lives might depend on it," Roman said, forcing himself to at least try and reason with her.

The princess ignored him. "I want to go back to the fortress," she said. "Right now."

"You're done when I say you're done," Rowan snarled, his control fraying.

Aelin went still, and Rowan could have sworn flames crackled in her gaze as she said, "You can kill me or torture me or throw me off a cliff but I am done for today. In that darkness, I saw things that no one should be able to see. It dragged me through my memories— and not the decent ones. Is that enough for you?"

Rowan should have torn out her throat for speaking to him like that, had killed others for less over the centuries. But he restrained himself, snarling as he rose to his feet and began walking. He ignored the sounds of her stumbling behind him, resorting to their familiar habit of silence until they reached the wards and entered the gates of Mistward. He did allow himself a smirk at the embarrassment emanating from the girl as she passed the guards with nothing to hide her soiled clothing, but it faded as they entered the fortress.

But by the time they reached the bathing rooms, any energy Rowan might have devoted to reprimanding her vanished. He was tired of the girl, tired of the empty, vacant look in her eyes that had only worsened since her encounter with... whatever that creature was.

He gathered himself enough to tell her he expected her to be up at dawn for training the next day, and then turned to leave without another word.

 **Oh look it's an actual chapter! What?! I still write those? Sorry for the long breaks between updates, I know it must be annoying. Thank you so so much to everyone that followed, favorited, and reviewed this story** **. Also I believe someone owes me a sundae with jimmies (seriously though food is an A way to entice me to write). I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I'm really busy over the next few weeks but I'll try and update as soon as I can.**

 **-Jordan**

 **UPDATED: 5/13/19**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: All characters, dialogue, and plot goes to the incredible Sarah J. Mass.**

 **Rowan's POV:**

I was sitting atop the mountain, surrounded by ruins as I watched the girl struggle to shift. After asking her if she was going to piss herself again she had frozen me out for the trek to the ruins. I had brought her here, hoping that perhaps the lingering traces of Mala's power would perhaps bring out her own. The idea, however smart, was clearly not working. We'd been sitting here for hours, the cold wind buffeting us from all sides as I repeated the command over and over. _Shift_.

She had asked over and over again why I wouldn't just teach her magic without shifting but I didn't budge, insisting she had to shift before even stepping close to anything else. It was true though. If she couldn't even find it in her to acknowledge her fae form there was no way in hell she could master her other powers. Which from my current view, were basically non existent. I sighed irritably, thinking about walking off again to get a moment without the presence of the girl. The hours of taunting her had reaped no benefits and had done nothing but put me in a state of brittle irritation. We spent the rest of the day in almost complete silence, except for her incessant pestering of what I was doing about the creature in the field and her complaining when I made her sit through the storm that raged in the afternoon. I later walked her again to the baths before leaving her, already thinking of what to do the next day.

I waited until later to head to the mess hall, until it was dark and stormy outside and Emrys had almost finished telling his stories. I swooped down from the stormy sky's and settled in the shadows, peering into the warm and crowded room. Most people had already picked over the food and were now crowded around Emrys by the fire. I looked towards the corners of the room and spotted Aelin leaning against the stone wall, holding an empty plate as she listened to Emrys spinning the story of the skinwalkers. As Emrys finished and paused for few moments the girl stood and turned to leave, glancing towards the door on her way out. I felt her eyes hit me, or at least my hawk form. She looked confused for a moment before recognition crossed her features.

"Elentiya," I turned towards the source of the voice. Emrys. "Would you perhaps share a story from your lands? We'd love to hear a tale, if you'd give us the honor." The room was silent as the onlookers turned to look at her and Luca let out a shout of "Tell us!" The girl stared at Emrys, something flickering in her eyes before she said in a cold hard voice, "No thank you," and walked away.

•••

The next week became a cycle of kitchen duties and training for the girl. Well, if you could call it training considering she had failed to accomplish anything. I had snarled and sneered at her relentlessly to no avail, her power never emerging. I once told her that if she didn't pull it together we'd be making another trip to the Barrows, but had stopped my goading when she had said she'd slit her own throat before entering that place again. No matter how loathsome she was, something about the image of her bleeding out rubbed me the wrong way. Besides the occasional shouting matches, training usually consisted of swearing at each other or brooding silences. If she was in a particularly foul mood I would make her chop wood until she was so exhausted she could barely lift the ax and her hands were blistering. If she was going to waste both our times with her ridiculous fear than she might as well be of some use to me. Not to mention the fact that inflicting pain on her was one of my few reprieves. Spring had come, bringing rain and Doranelle was starting preparations for the Summer festivities. Every night I did the same thing, waiting till Emrys story's had started and flying down to listen from the shadows. I don't know why I did it, but there was something comforting about the soft words he spoke by the crackling fire, weaving tales of lands and creatures long forgotten. The girl came every evening too, appearing in the shadows. It was slightly strange, considering after the time she had been here she had made little to no attempt to be at all social with anyone besides Luca and I got the sense that that was far more because of him than her.

It wasn't until the eighth day that anything exciting happened, amidst the trek to the temple ruins when she stopped mid walk and told me she had a request,"I want to see you shift."

I immediately rejected the idea, not interested in showing her and not about to let her order me around. But she had insisted and I thought that maybe if she saw me do it it would somehow help her. I gave her a look that said, _just this once_ and shifted. It occurred in a flash of light, a blur of color and I was flying towards the nearest tree branch. I settled down on it and clacked my beak at her. She scanned the forest floor where I had been moments before as if looking for some trace of me I had left behind before looking back up at me. I swooped down with a screech, my talons leering towards her eyes. She lunged behind tree as I shifted back, walking up to her and growling, "Your turn," in her face.

She gave me a once over, a flicker of something on her face- almost like awe. "Where do your clothes go?" She asked.

"Between, somewhere. I don't particularly care." I flashed my teeth at her in irritation but she just stared back blankly, something in her eyes I couldn't quite described. Her gaze stiffened, determination filling her eyes. "Sometimes I wonder whether this is punishment for _you_ ," she said baring her teeth. "But what could you have done to piss off her Immortal Majesty?"

I growled, how _dare_ she speak like that I thought, to me and about Maeve. "Don't use that tone when you talk about her."

"Oh, I can use whatever tone I want. And you can taunt and snarl at me and make me chop wood all day, but short of ripping out my tongue you can't-" I stopped her mid sentence, reaching out my hand in a motion so quick she didn't even have time to scream before I had grasped her tongue between my fingers. She gagged, twisting and biting down on my hand. I didn't even flinch.

"Say that again," I purred at her. I held on to her tongue as she choked, her hands reaching out for my daggers as she thrust her knee between my legs. I shoved her, pressing my body against hers and trapping her against the tree. I saw the look of panic in her eyes as she realized how impossibly outmatched she was. Growling in satisfaction I released her. She gasped for breath, swearing at me and spitting at my feet. The act alone sent me into a pit of rage. I felt a pure primal urge rise up in me, so strong I didn't even try to fight it as I lunged for her neck. She screamed as my teeth latched onto the spot between her neck and shoulder. I could feel her heart racing, the blood pumping through her veins as she froze beneath me. Her blood flowed, thrumming with power. The taste filled me, her blood warm and thrilling and fiery. I pressed her more firmly against the tree and clamped my teeth down, pinning her as blood trickled down her shoulder.

That's when she growled, a purely animalistic noise and shoved. I staggered backwards with the force of it, momentarily stunned as my teeth ripped away from her skin. Because with a flash of light and a primal roar she shifted, her face contorted into an expression of pure rage. And that image, of her standing there, so strong and powerful was so magnificent I couldn't help but grin. I could still taste her blood, so full of fire that it warmed my entire body as it trickled down my face. I spat, trying to rid myself of the glowing embers of wildness filling my entire being. I saw her lunge for me, closing in before she suddenly stopped, freezing as she noticed her surroundings. I knew what she was experiencing, could remember my first shift like it was yesterday. The overwhelming smells, the feeling that everything was sharper. She panted, her breathe coming out in gasps. I spotted the skin on her neck, stitching itself back together. Her fae healing should be kicking in, but not that soon, not that _fast_. I brushed aside the thought as I sensed it, the power I had felt before that day in the field, only this time so much stronger. I felt her flash of panic, how she tried to pull it back.

I stepped forward, realizing I wanted to be closer to her, to this raw power. So untamed and wild. "Let it out, don't fight it." I encouraged, wanting to see how far she could take it if she allowed herself. I reached out with my power, allowing it to caress hers. Taunting and pulling with every pulse. Her fire beat against my coolness, intertwining and melding together. I sent a freezing zap to her elbow and she staggered back, smacking into a tree. Another one to her cheek. I couldn't help but taunt her, this beautiful, wild power she possessed. Suddenly she imploded, a brilliant blue wildfire bursting from her and engulfing the clearing, heading towards me with a primal rage. With a single breath I silenced it, cutting off the flames air, along with hers. She dropped to her knees, clawing at her neck. I walked towards her, letting the air rush back down her throat. She gulped it down greedily, shifting back into her mortal form.

I thought of how I had bitten her, and in such a primal, claiming way at that. "Does your lover know what you are?" I asked. I couldn't help asking, even though I suppose I should know just how touchy the subject of ex lovers can be. Maeve had just said the girl had been in love before she came here, I hadn't asked how she knew. I wondered if this lover was the one who made her have that dead look in her eyes.

She lifted her head, "He knows everything." I thought of this person, a male who was perhaps waiting for her to come home. "I won't be biting you again." I said in a clipped tone. No matter if she never shifted again, or how good her blood tasted I wouldn't claim another males female.

She let out another growl, but this one was muted, with no fire behind it. "Even if it's the only way to get me to shift?"

I walked away from her towards the ridge, wanting to put as much distance between myself and her blood as possible. "You don't bite the woman of other males," I told her.

Her voice cracked over the next few words, whatever fire that had flared in her during the previous moments vanishing as quickly as it had come. "We're not together, not anymore. I let him go before I came here."

I glanced over my shoulder, the tone to her voice so familiar it sent a pain rushing though me. The same tone to my thoughts ever since Lyria- I cut the thought off. "Why?" I asked.

She clenched her hand into a fist, staring at it with a gaze so pained and strong at the same time. I noticed the ring she was wearing, had been wearing ever since she got here. It was simple, a single silver band surrounding a glowing purple stone. "Because he's safer if he's as repulsed of me as you are."

I didn't know why but being compared to her ex lover irritated me as I responded, "At least you've already learned one lesson," I said in a cold voice,"the people you love are just weapons that will be used against you."

I noticed something flash in her eyes, weighted and hopeless. I ignored it and turned back to her. "Shift again," I ordered, "this time, try to hold it for longer-" I felt the last traces of her power disappear, overridden by a wave of hopelessness. I walked towards her and gripped her shoulder. "Are you listening?" I said and she gave me a bored stare.

"Why don't you just bite me again?" She drawled.

"Why don't I just give you the lashing you deserve?" I spat at her, finally fed up with her bullshit.

She blinked suddenly, the dead look in her eyes turning cold as something flooded through her, so dark and forbidding I took a step back. "If you _ever_ take a whip to me, I will skin you alive."

I brushed off the chill to her words, what they implied. "If you don't shift again, you're pulling double kitchen duty for the next week."

"Fine," she said. Something hardened in her gaze.

"You're worthless."

"Tell me something I don't know."

I continued, so sick and tired of her righteousness, of her thinking she was some sort of goddess. "You would probably have been more useful to the world if you'd actually died ten years ago."

She looked me dead in the eye and said, "I'm leaving."

•••

I didn't try and stop her as she stormed back to the fortress and packed her meager things, not even asking about getting her weapons back, and walked out. I followed her in my hawk form past the wards and the first few steps into the forest before I appeared between two trees. "Is this what you do? Run away when things get hard?"

She ignored me, brushing past without so much as a glance. "Your free of your obligation to me so I have nothing more to say to you and you have nothing more to say to me. Do us both a favor and go to hell."

"Have you ever had to fight for anything in your life?" I asked with a growl.

She let out a low, bitter laugh as she sped up, veering west. I followed her, keeping up easily with my long legs. "You're proving me right with every step you take."

"I don't care," she tossed over her shoulder.

"I don't know what you want from Maeve, what answers your looking for, but you-"

She cut me off with a shout, "You don't know what I want from her? How about saving the world from the King of Adarlan?"

"Why bother? Maybe the world's not worth saving." I wondered what it was like, to have so much fire and passion for something you'd lay down your life for it.

"Because I made a promise. A promise to my friend that I would see her kingdom freed." She thrust her palm in my face, a bright pink scar running along the length of it. "I made an unbreakable vow. And you and Maeve, all you damned bastards, are getting in the way of that." She turned away again, storming down the hill.

I followed her. "And what of your own people? What of your own kingdom?"

"They're better off without me, just as you said."

I snarled at her. "So you'd save another land but not yours. Why can't your friend save her own kingdom?"

At this she spun around, fury and sadness warring in her eyes. "Because she is dead!" The words came out in a hoarse shriek. "Because she is _dead_ , and I am left with my _worthless_ life!"

I froze at her words, at the realization that whatever words I'd been saying had been just a reflection of her own dark thoughts, how I had teased her about her friend who was dead, and didn't try to stop her as she stormed away into the woods.

 **Hello all you lovely readers! Sorry this took me a little while to put up, I wanted to try and make it long since the last one was super short. Next chapter should be up sooner (by Tuesday?) haha don't hold me to that. I want to thank everyone who continues to read this story/follow/favorite/review. I know I've said it like a bajillion times but you guys make me so incredibly happy. Hope you enjoyed and let me know if there's anything I should change!**

 **Reviews:**

 **intomiddle3arth: thank you so much for all the support and compliments! Your review made me smile so big. Sending you virtual sundaes**

 **MicroFire:**

 **I would absolutely love to get on a regular updating schedule! But currently I've very busy in my personal life so that makes it hard. Also thank you for the concern, don't worry I would never put personal information like my address or phone number on the internet but I want my readers to know my name. Thank you for your review!**

 **xx, Jordan**


	7. Chapter 7

**Rowan's POV:**

 **I own nothing! All dialogue and plot goes to the incredible Sarah J Mass.**

 _I froze at her words, at the realization that what I'd been saying had just been a reflection of her own dark thoughts, how I had teased her about her friend who was dead, and didn't try to stop her as she stormed away into the woods._

I stood there frozen as she disappeared between the trees, the sounds of her crashing through the forest echoing in my ears. I tried to calm the irritation coursing through my veins. Resisting the urge to race after her and demand she stop acting like a child taking more energy than I cared to admit. Letting out a sigh of frustration I shifted, rising above the treeline after her. I had to admit she had made it quite a ways away in the few minutes since she'd left, as I was already not able to spot her amidst the towering pines. Okay, maybe I had taken it too far. I had been stupid, letting my emotions get the better of me. I didn't know what it was but something about her made my blood boil in a way that wasn't particularly good for either of us. I ruffled my feathers, shaking off the irritation and twinge of guilt that rushed through me. First I'd find her, then I'd apologize. Maybe after I beat her into oblivion for walking out like that. With that I turned my attention back to locating the person who currently was being a giant pain in my ass.

It took me longer than I'd like to admit to locate her, something which was unfortunately made much easier when I saw the tendril of smoke curling up into the sky, accompanied by the glowing orange and yellow light that was now emerging through the overcast sky. Damn her. Had she actually been stupid enough to light a fire? Annoying as she was I hadn't taken her for a complete idiot, a fact she was now clearly proving me wrong on. Muffling my squawk of irritation I swooped down until I spotted her. A small figure, wrapped in a cloak underneath an overhang she had found. Fairly inconspicuous, if not for the fact she was basically holding up a sign saying "come find me" with the brilliant golden flames. I had half a mind to swoop down and claw her face in but I figured she'd just bite my head off. I almost turned arounf, convincing myself nothing would bother her, or maybe something would and she'd return to the fortress and be ready to actually get some work done. But some instinct told me to stay. That given the girls ridiculously bad luck and increasing stupidity something most likely would find her. And Maeve probably wouldn't be too happy if I let her little experiment or whatever the girl was to her get eaten alive in the middle of the woods. Sighing, I resigned to spending the rest of the night out here, something made considerably less enjoyable by the rain now pounding down. Perhaps I'd douse the fire, force her to warm herself other, less dangerous ways. However, the fire continued to burn, hours passing as I hovered above her makeshift camp, sometimes perching in the trees and watching the girl eventually fell asleep. I almost did as well, thinking that perhaps I was just being paranoid and that maybe she'd finally caught a break and would be on her way by morning. Maybe I could finally be rid of her. Could go back to Doranelle and tell Maeve the girl had run off. That was until the forest went silent and a scent that was all too familiar filled the air. Nothing obvious seemed to have changed. Her fire was still burning, the rain still falling but something was just- off. Apparently the girl sensed it too, springing to her feet, a wooden stake in each hand. I almost sighed in relief when I saw her making her way away from her camp and slipping back into the forest. That's when I saw them, poking around the front of the cave she had just narrowly escaped from. Skinwalkers. Three of them. Damn her. Not many things scared me in my immortal existence but a run in with skinwalkers was not something even I looked forward to. I could still sense her, getting closer to me with every carefully placed step through the trees. I felt relief flood through me. Perhaps I should shift now, get to her and get us out of here before things turned ugly. The skinwalkers were fast but I was fairly sure I could outrun them if enough distance was between us. Especially if they hadn't gotten her scent yet. About to launch myself into the undergrowth I paused, looking back at the cave. Only to find the three figures gone. But not their scent, one of carrion and leather. Still stuck to the air. If they'd left that quickly they must have caught her scent, meaning they'd be on her within minutes. If she was smart enough to try and conceal it. I dove down into the trees, flying low and shifting in a flash of light. My feet landed on the damp earth without a sound as I lifted my head and sniffed, trying to break through the overwhelming stench of death. I sensed her then, her breaths coming in gasps as she sprinted through the woods. Stupid girl. She couldn't hope to outrun them. Not in these woods, their woods. Not with her body so mortally slow. I broke into a run, arcing to cut her off as I made my way through the trees. Swift and silent, all the while trying to sense the other beings no doubt circling. I was in front of her now, could hear how she was trying- and failing to stealthily make her way down the hill. I had to admit for a mortal she was fast. I sensed her reaching for the tree trunk, grasping it as she swung herself around it just as I heard it. The near silent steps, closing in on us. On her. Instinct took hold of me and I let off a burst of speed, intercepting her barely a moment after she vaulted around the tree. Her body slammed into mine, so weak and soft compared to my immortal one. As if in slow motion she struck out with her pathetic excuse for weapons, the thin sharpened pieces of wood stopping mid swing as I grabbed onto her wrists. I squeezed, hard enough so she couldn't move to stab me with either stake. Her entire body twisted as she brought her foot up to collide with my face as I flashed my teeth, prepared to sink them into her flesh despite my earlier promise. She froze in midair and I didn't have time to utter a word before I again heard the footsteps, closer then before as they neared the top of the hill. I pulled her body towards me, crushing it against mine and pulling us into a hollowed out tree. The footsteps halted, scenting as I spared a look at her. Sweat coated her brow, her breaths coming out in rapid pants she was trying desperately to keep quiet. I released her, gripping her by the shoulders and pulling her back into me as I pressed my mouth to her ear.

"You are going to listen to every word I say," I said into her ear in a soft murmur. "Or else you are going to die tonight. Do you understand?"

She nodded and I released her, drawing my sword and hatchet. The smell was growing stronger, the sounds of footsteps starting again. "Your survival depends entirely on you," I told her. "You need to shift now, or your mortal slowness will kill you."

Her entire body stiffened but I felt it. Felt her reach into whatever place her power lied. The sound of the skinwalkers sharpening their blades reached us through the pounding rain. She froze again, this time in fear and the words were barely out of her mouth before I interrupted them. "Your magic-"

"They do not breathe, so they have no airways to cut off. Ice would slow them down, not stop them. My wind is already blowing our scent away from them, but not for long. Shift, Aelin."

It was true, in all the stories I'd heard of skin walkers and the few times I'd encountered them, my magic would not be enough to stop them. But perhaps hers, her fire would be enough. Would have to be enough. Lightning flashed, illuminating her drawn face as she struggled against whatever blocks were on her power. I could see it, she the urge to survive growing in her eyes. "We are going to have to run in a moment. What form you take when we do will determine our fates. So breathe, and shift."

I watched her shut her eyes, her breathes coming out of her slow and steady despite her pounding heart. I tried to help, sending waves of cool air towards her. It happened then, faster then I'd anticipated and I cursed, pressing myself against her in an attempt to conceal the flash of light she admitted as she shifted. The moment it happened, her ears growing into points, her skin still waxen but now tainted with that glow only those with fae blood possessed, her hands were against her mouth to stop herself from vomiting. I had forgotten, how dull a human's senses were. I knew she must hear them now, the sound of the three creatures making their way down the hill. Slow and unhurried, the grace with which someone who had no fear of their fate walked.

"There are two of them now," hissed one. "A Fae male joined the female. I want him- he smells of storm winds and steel." Even I had to suppress a shudder at that. At the sound of their voices, cracked and raspy and filled with the promise of death. "The female we'll bring back with us, dawns too close. Then we can take our time peeling her apart." I once again had to suppress the twinge of apprehension I felt. Despite how much of a pain in the ass the girl was, the thought of the skin walkers peeling her apart didn't sit well with me.

I leaned back away from her, listening intently to the once again silent forest. "There is a swift river a third of a mile east, at the base of a large cliff," I told her, pulling two long daggers from their sheaths and extending them to her as I did. She dropped the sharpened pieces of wood and took them, gripping the ivory hilts tightly. "When I say run, you run like hell. Step where I step and don't turn around for any reason. If we are separated, run straight. You'll hear the river." I made my voice cold and steady, one I would use to address soldiers on the battlefield, hoping it would help calm her. I let myself glance out of the tree, resisting the urge to retch at the overwhelming stench that hit me. "If they catch you, you cannot kill them. Not with a mortal weapon. Your best option is to fight until you can get free and run. Understand?" She nodded again, her breaths once again coming in gasps. I inhaled, sensing them moving closer with every second. "On my mark-" I said as I sunk back onto my haunches.

"Come out, come out," came a taunting hiss, so close it felt like it was whispering right into my ear. I heard it then, the sound of the other two closing in. I sent a gust of wind, carrying our scent away and they changed course, racing after their prey.

"Now," I hissed and burst from the tree. I sprinted away, already aware of the skinwalkers veering back around. I could hear her behind me, crashing through the trees without the grace gained with practice. She had barely run in her immortal body, slowing her down tremendously. I raced towards the river, slowing my pace and allowing her to catch up. I sensed her fall before she hit the ground, dashing back to pull her up by her elbow. "Faster," I gasped out between breaths as she found her footing. I pushed off again, sensing them getting closer, faster than ever as they hunted their next kill. The smell was getting closer too, cloying the air and making it harder to breath. Aelin was on my heels, even the few moments of running improving her speed. But it wasn't enough. I was so focused on her, on the three sets of feet racing towards us that I didn't notice the fourth until it was too late. It lunged for me and I heard a scream. Aelin. I ducked with ease, spinning away from the creature and slashing with my hatchet, severing its arms and head within seconds. I knew it didn't matter though, it was no doubt already stitching itself back together. I didn't falter though, and neither did she. I could tell she was gaining speed as the skinwalkers closed in, emitting shrieks of rage as they beheld their fallen kin. But it didn't matter. We'd made it to the cliff and I hurtled over the edge without sparing a glance behind me. I felt her body soaring over the edge moments later, accompanied by a shout of "shift" I barely registered. I did, just before I felt the rush of heat that sent me hurtling upwards, as blue fire, raging and untamed, consumed the skinwalkers.

•••

I stood on the riverbank, slowly putting out the fire that while burning the skinwalkers to ash had also extended to the surrounding forest. Aelin was sitting nearby, her arms around herself as she shivered. It has taken her a moment to get the words out- and they were wary and shaking when she did so. "Can you put it out?"

"You could if you tried." I said to her. It was perfectly true. With her power, especially with it being her flames it should be easy. She didn't respond, continuing to stare at the ground. I sighed. "I'm almost done," I said as I suffocated the last of the flames. "We don't need something else attracted to your fires." The words came out for some reason with a sharper bite then I'd intended. But she deserved it, I told myself. For being so utterly stupid to light a fire in the middle of the woods.

She was silent though, and it was with that same quiet tone that she asked the question. "Why is my shifting so vital?"

"Because it terrifies you," I told her. "Mastering it is the first step toward learning to control your power. Without that control, you could have easily burnt yourself out with a blast like that."

"What do you mean?"

"When you access your power, what does it feel like?" I asked.

"A well," she said, "the magic feels like a well."

"Have you felt the bottom of it?"

"Is there a bottom?" I heard it then, the desperation in her voice. So she had thought about it before. How far how deep, her power went.

""All magic has a bottom—a breaking point. For those with weaker gifts, it's easily depleted and easily refilled. They can access most of their power at once. But for those with stronger gifts, it can take hours to hit the bottom, to summon their powers at full strength," I told her.

"How long does it take you?" She looked up at me, eyes slightly curious.

"A full day," I said, watching her jolt slightly in response. "Before battle, we take the time, so that when we walk onto the killing field we can be at our strongest. You can do other things at the same time, but some part of you is down in there, pulling up more and more, until you reach the bottom."

"And when you pull it all out, it just—releases in some giant wave?"

"If I want it to. I can release it in smaller bursts, and go on for a while. But it can be hard to hold it back. People sometimes can't tell friend from foe when they're handling that much magic." Something flickered in her gaze, wary and haunted, the same look she always got when she looked at the ring on her finger.

"How long does it take you to recover?"

"Days. A week, depending on how I used the power and whether I drained every last drop. Some make the mistake of trying to take more before they're ready, or holding on for too long, and they either burn out their minds or just burn up altogether. Your shaking isn't just from the river, you know. It's your body's way of telling you not to do that again," I told her.

"Because of the iron in our blood pushing against the magic?"

"That's how our enemies will sometimes try to fight against us if they don't have magic—iron everything." Her eyebrows rose, curious again and I don't know what made me continue but I did. "I was captured once. While on a campaign in the east, in a kingdom that doesn't exist anymore. They had me shackled head to toe in iron to keep me from choking the air out of their lungs."

She let out a low whistle. "Were you tortured?"

"Two weeks on their tables before my men rescued me." I unbuckled my vambrace and pulled back my sleeve, revealing the skin of my right arm where a thick, raised scar curved around my arm and elbow. "Cut me open bit by bit, then took the bones here and—"

"I can see very well what happened, and know exactly how it's done," she said the words with a cold voice, somehow different from the one she'd used moments ago. The same voice soldiers used when talking about the battlefield.

"Was if you?" I asked, careful to keep my voice low. "Or someone else?"

"I was too late. He didn't survive." The words coursed through me, reminding me of a different girl on a mountain, long ago. It grew quiet, until her words, murmured and hoarse. "Thank you for saving me."

I shrugged, ignoring the note of gratitude in her voice. "I am bound by an unbreakable blood oath to my Queen, so I had no choice but to ensure you didn't die." Only half true. I honestly didn't know what had compelled me to follow her, some sort of pull, different than the usual urge to protect that lied in all Fae males. She deflated slightly at my words though and I continued, "But, I would not have left anyone to a fate at the hands of the skinwalkers."

"A warning would have been nice," she clipped.

"I said they were on the loose- weeks ago. But even if I'd warned you today you would not have listened."

She shivered again, this time followed by a flash of light and flicker of pain. Instantly her mortal body was wracked with more shudders, no doubt adjusting to the cold. "What was the trigger when you shifted earlier?" I asked as she rubbed her arms for warmth. The rain was still pounding down, now aided by the sound of the rushing river nearby.

"It was nothing." I was silent, waiting for her to continue. She sighed. "Let's just say it was fear and necessity and impressively deep rooted survival skills." I considered it for a moment. But no, that wasn't it. It had been just as necessary to shift and use her power back at the tree earlier, perhaps more so. Yet she had not.

"You didn't lose control immediately upon shifting. When you finally used your magic your clothes didn't burn. Neither did your hair. And the daggers didn't melt." Suddenly remembering she still had them on her, I quickly swiped them back. "Why was it different this time?"

"Because I didn't want you to die to save me," she said, tracing a line in the mud with her boot before looking up at me.

For a moment I was stunned. That it had not been a need for her own survival, but for mine that had prompted her shift. "Would you have shifted to save yourself?" I asked, hoping the answer wasn't what I thought it was.

"Your opinion of me is pretty much identical to my own, so you know the answer." Something about her words bugged me. Not just the utter lack of self preservation but the fact that she had based it off my opinion of her. You should have died ten years ago. The words echoed through me, creating a sliver of an emotion I hadn't felt in a while. Guilt.

"Your not leaving," I said, crossing my arms. "I'm not letting you off double duty in the kitchens. But your not leaving."

I don't know what made me say it. Maybe her words just moments before. Maybe the fact that she had technically, just tried to save my life. Or maybe just that I wanted to beat her ass into the ground.

"Why?" She said, her voice confused.

I unfastened my cloak, "Because I said so, that's why."

She looked like she was going to argue but I tossed her my cloak, then my jacket. She stared at them for a few moments before wrapping them around herself. And when I turned to head back to the fortress, she followed me.

 **Okay. I promise I have an explanation for why I've been gone so long! Honestly I wasn't going to update this fanfiction again but during the last week or so I reread Heir of Fire and realized how much I missed writing Rowaelin so now I'm back! Hopefully I'll update soon but I start high school tomorrow so I don't know how much time I'll have. Hope you guys liked this chapter, sorry if it was a little wonky I still haven't gotten back into the swing of writing.**

 **xx jordan**


	8. Chapter 8

**Rowan's POV Chapter 25**

 _She looked like she was going to argue but I tossed her my cloak, then my jacket. She stared at them for a few moments before wrapping them around herself. And when I turned to head back to the fortress, she followed me._

It had been over a week since the skinwalker attack and despite the fact that I had made good on my promise to make her pull double duty in the kitchens we had been able to not tear each other to pieces- for the most part. That didn't mean that we had made any more progress on the shifting front though. Whatever had awoken her power that night, fear for my survival or otherwise clearly hadn't stuck around. And considering the fact that I wasn't planning on putting myself in mortal danger anytime soon I figured I needed another plan of action. Needless to say, she was still a raging pain in the ass. Everyday though I still brought her to the temple ruins, hoping the faint remaining threads of Mala's power would somehow trigger her's. And that if it did, we'd be far enough away to avoid any collateral damage.

We'd been sitting atop the hill for over two hours, nothing but the howling wind and my endless command of _shift_ interrupting the silence between us. Suddenly Aelin stood, groaning and resting her hands on her hips. "What was this place anyways?" She asked, looking around at the crumbling ruins.

She walked over to a cluster of white stones, glowing softly in the sunlight. "The Sun Goddess's temple," I answered, leaning over her shoulder slightly.

"You've been bringing me here because you think it might help **-** with mastering my powers?" I nodded as she placed a hand on one of the worn white stones. I wondered if she could feel it, the sliver of power that still thrummed beneath the stones, felt it as it pulled towards her magic. "Mab was immortalized into godhood thanks to Maeve," she said, running her hand down a particularly jagged rock. "But that was over five hundred years ago. Mala had a sister in the moon long before Mab took her place."

"Deanna was the original sisters name. But you humans gave her some of Mab's traits. The hunting, the hounds," I told her.

"Perhaps Deanna and Mala weren't always rivals."

"What are you getting at?" I asked.

She shrugged, continuing to run her hands along the stone. "Did you ever know Mab?"

I paused for a moment, wondering if I should continue the conversation. Figuring she'd probably just pester me into telling her I said, "No, I am old, but not that old."

"Do you feel old?" She asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

I looked out over the hills at the gathering clouds. "I am still considered young by the standards of my kind."

I could tell she wasn't satisfied with me dodging the question she so clearly wanted to ask. "You said that you once campaigned in a kingdom that no longer exists. You've been off to war several times, it seems, and seen the world. That would leave its mark. Age you on the inside."

I was surprised for a moment. About how easily she seemed to understand it for her age. "Do you feel old?" I asked, locking eyes with her.

Something flickered in her gaze as she said, "These days, I am very glad to be mortal and to only have to endure this life once. These days, I don't envy you at all."

"And before?" I asked, watching as she turned her gaze to the trees.

"I used to wish I had a chance to see it all- and hated that I never would."

I began to ask what had changed her mind but she started moving again, examining a stone with a faintly carved stag in it. She brushed the dust off it and asked, "Is this where the stags were kept- before this place was destroyed?"

"I don't know. This temple wasn't destroyed, it was abandoned when the Fae moved to Doranelle and then ruined by time and winter."

"Emry's stories said destroyed, not abandoned," she said.

"Again, what are you getting at?" I asked. If I was gonna get the full history questionnaire I might as well know why.

"The Fae on my continent- in Terrasan, they weren't like you. At least, I don't remember them being that way. They're weren't many but," she swallowed hard, looking almost pained for a second before continuing. "The King of Adarlan hunted and killed them so easily. Yet when I look at you, I don't understand how he did it." She looked at me over her shoulder, one hand still pressed against the stone.

"I've never been to your continent but I heard that the Fae there were gentler, less aggressive. Very few trained in combat, and they relied heavily on magic. Once magic was gone from your lands many of them might not have known what to do against trained soldiers."

"And yet Maeve wouldn't send aid." Her tone was cold, all warmth gone from it.

"The Fae of your continent long ago severed ties with Maeve. But there were some in Doranelle who argued in favor of helping. My queen wound up offering sanctuary to any who could make it here." She grew quiet at that, moving away from the stone with the faint stag carving, a wave of emotion coming off her even I didn't try and figure out.

It was the next day, and I'd been waiting over ten minutes for her before she walked through the door to her room, shrugging on her jacket. "Your already late," I said from

my position leaning against the doorway.

"There were extra dishes this morning," she said as she rebraided her hair, turning to face me and said, "Can I expect to do something useful with you today or will it be more sitting and growling and glaring? Or will I just wind up chopping wood for hours on end?"

I ignored her and turned to walk down the hallway, hearing her follow after a few moments. We passed two sentries, both of whom blinked in surprise and then let out cautious grins when Aelin shot them a smile. I could feel the confusion flooding off her, and figured it wasn't the first time that had happened. I waited until we were well away from the fortress, headed south into the mountains to explain it to her. "They've all been keeping their distance because of that scent you put out."

"Excuse me?" She asked incredulously.

I weaved between the trees, smirking slightly at her labored breathing. "There are more males than females here- and they're fairly isolated from

the world. Haven't you wondered why they haven't approached you?"

"They stayed away from me because I smell?" She asked, and I almost laughed at how red her face was.

"Your scent says that you don't want to be approached. The males smell it more than the females and they've been staying the hell away. They don't want they're faces clawed off."

She was quiet for a moment before saying, "Good. I'm not interested in men- males."

I glanced back at her, casting a pointed look on the ring that gleamed on her finger. "What happens if you become queen? Will you refuse a potential alliance through marriage?"

I felt the dread flood through her, the absolute horror at the suggestion before it settled into pure irritation. "Nice try," she scoffed after a few moments.

I grinned, "You're learning."

"You get baited by me every now and then too you know." I gave her a look that said, _I let you bait me._ She shot me a irritated glare, "Where the hell are we going today? We never head west."

The smirk fell off my face, "You wanted to do something useful. So here's your chance."

By the time we reached the pine woods, it was already three o clock, our speed greatly hindered by the fact she had remained in her human form. I slowed down, following markers I'd left on some stones and trees as she trailed behind me (quietly for once, thank the gods). The scent of the sea breeeze washed over me, but it was nothing compared to the smell that hit me moments later, the smell I'd been tracking for hours. Across the stream the ground had been disturbed, the brush surrounding it broken and trampled. But my attention went to to the stream, more specifically what had been wedged between the rocks. The girl swore at what was lying there. A husk. More specially, a female Fae, her entire body looking like it had been drained of all life. There were no wounds, except for the lines of dried blood coming from her nose and ears. Her skin was leached of color, her face hollowed out and stuck in an expression of despair. The smell was the worst though, reeking of something worse than the skinwalkers, dark and unnatural. "What did this?" She murmured, eyes surfing the bank beyond the stream like the solution would emerge from the brush. "Why not just dump her in the sea? Leaving her in a stream seems idiotic. They left tracks too, unless those are from whoever found her."

"Malakai gave me the report this morning—and he and his men are trained not to leave tracks. But this scent- I'll admit it's different." I stepped into the stream, circling the husk as I studied it. I could sense her unease, the desire to get as far away as possible from whatever _this_ was. I could feel it now, the cold rage racing through me. I turned to her, "So you tell me, assassin. You wanted to be useful." She bristled, anger rushing through her at my tone and I wondered if she'd bite. But then her gaze fell to the broken husk of the women. And despite her repulsion, she sniffed. I felt the fear and disgust race through her, and turned towards her. "You claimed you didn't know what that thing in the barrow field was, I think this is what it does."

I rested my hands on my hips, turning back towards the body and getting another sniff of the smell. I let my gaze fall back to the girl, recalling how she'd looked when she appeared out of that darkness, like she had been on deaths doorstep. "You came out of that darkness looking as if someone had sucked the life from you. You skin was a shade paler, your freckles gone."

She shuddered, "It forced me to go through memories. The worst kind. Have you ever heard of a creature that can feed on such things? When I glimpsed it, I saw a man. A beautiful man- pale and dark haired, with eyes of full black. He wasn't human. I mean, he looked it but his eyes- they weren't human at all." She shook her head, a sense of dread washing over her.

"Even my queen doesn't know every foul creature roaming these lands. If the skinwalkers are venturing down from the mountains, perhaps other things are too."

"The townspeople might know something. Maybe they've seen it or heard rumors," she said.

I thought about it for a moment before shaking me head, "We don't have the time. You wasted daylight by coming here in your human form. We have an hour before we head back, make the most of it."

We tracked the path of the scent until it ran into the sea cliff. I stood on the cliffs edge, gazing down at the narrow beach and crystal blue sea. "It doesn't make sense," I muttered. "This is the fourth body in the last few weeks- none of them have been reported missing." I crouched down, tracing a rough line in the dirt in the shape of Wendlyn's coast. "They've been found here," I said, making small dots on my makeshift sketch. "We're here," I said, marking it with another dot. I leaned back, examining the map. There was no correlation between the dots, besides being near the water. "And yet you and I encountered the creature lurking amongst the barrow wights here." I drew an x where the barrow mounts were, far more inland than where the husks has been found. "I haven't seen any further signs of it remaining by the barrows, and the wights have returned to their usual habits." I had gone back to the mounts a few times, hoping to see the creature again but there had been nothing, not even a scent to follow.

"We're all the bodies the same?" She asked.

"They were all drained like this, with expressions of terror on their faces. Not a hint of a wound, beyond dried blood at the nose and ears." I could once again feel the irritation coursing through me, the annoyance at not having any idea what these things were- let alone how to stop them.

"All dumped in the forest, not the sea?" She asked. I nodded. "But all within walking distance of the water?" I nodded again.

She gazed out towards the water, at the sun making its descent and said, "If it were a skilled, sentient killer, it would hide the bodies better. Or, again, use the sea. Or maybe it doesn't care. Maybe it wants us to know what it's doing. There were—there were times when I left bodies so that they'd be found by a certain person, or to send a type of message. What do the victims have in common?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "We don't even know their names or where they came from. We need to return to the fortress," I said, rising to my feet and brushing off my hands.

As I turned away she grabbed my elbow, pulling me backwards. "Wait, have you seen enough of the body?" I nodded, watching as she took a final sniff and said, "Then we've got to bury her."

"The ground's to hard here," I said. She shot me glare and stalked into the trees.

"Then we'll do it the ancient way." So I watched as she pulled the body out of the stream, laying it on the pine needle covered forest floor. I didn't say anything as she gathered kindling and then knelt. I even resisted mocking her first few pathetic attempts at starting a fire by hand. Once she had gotten the small flames flickering I moved forward to stand beside her, sending a warm breeze over and into the flames. I let it fuel the flames, making the scent farther and farther away with each gust. I felt it then, as she gazed at the flickering flames consuming the woman's corpse. Felt her try and draw that power up from wherever it slumbered. Nothing came though, no flash of light or flicker of flame. I didn't say anything though, as the flames burned, as we stood on the bank until the Fae woman was nothing but ashes, carrying up through the trees and towards the sea.

 **Oh look! It's an actual update. Honestly I'm slightly proud of myself right now for continuing this lol. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this and I'm sorry if not much happened in this chapter, I was gonna make it longer but really just wanted to get it up. New chapters soon I promise (were finally getting to the good stuff!) cause I'm now determined to finish this story. And thank you so much to the people who continue to review and follow and favorite despite my terrible updating schedule! I love you guys so much!**

 **Jordan✨**


	9. I'M BACK! (FOR GOOD)

Hello all you wonderful people! First off, I am so sorry about not updating this story for so long. Honestly I was more motivated to write than usual, I have just been super busy lately and honestly didn't have the time too. Also NaNoWriMo kind of took over my life. But I am back now! And hopefully in full force. I am determined to finish this fic (honestly I always intended to) and then (hopefully) start writing some other stuff. I made an aof account recently, and I will let you guys know when I get that up and running. So yeah, expect an update soon I promise. Okay. Now that that business is out of the way. CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW THRONE OF GLASS SEVEN ISN'T COMING OUT TILL FALL 2018!? SERIOUSLY?! WE HAVE TO WAIT A YEAR. I honestly just had a mental breakdown because of this and started frantically texting my equally rowaelin/tog obsessed best friend who is being very unhelpful as she is currently sleeping like normal people do. So naturally after screaming and swearing quite a bit over text to her, I decided to go read Heir of Fire to calm down and started thinking of this fic. So now here I am. Anyways, I won't burden you all with my current state of mental duress but I hope all of you are doing good and that at least someone is reading this lol. Oh and new updates are coming soon I PROMISE! Feel free to yell at me via review if I don't, I promise you I read everything. That sounded a little creepy lol but honestly thank you to everyone who continued to support this fic, I love all of you so much! I'm actually going to go now but I promise I will be back soon with something much more interesting than myself! Okay, got to go read Rowaelin FanFiction and cry my eyes out! Adios!

Jordan


	10. Chapter 10

**Rowan's POV: Chapter 28**

 _I didn't say anything though, as the flames burned, as we stood on the bank until the Fae woman was nothing but ashes, carrying up through the trees and towards the sea._

A few days later I decided to take Aelin to the visit a commune of healers nearby. They were the finest healers on the continent, located on the border between the Fae and mortal world so that anyone that reached them could receive aid. I had been thinking about what she'd said, how she had once wanted to see the world. I honestly didn't know what made me decide to bring her here, but somehow I found myself following her around the grounds as she was guided by one of the healers. Her eyes had been full of wonder the entire time, and after a few hours I practically had to drag her out of there. I would have let her stay longer, except for the fact that it was almost nightfall and thanks to her continued habit of not being able to shift on command our journey back would take twice as long. I had hoped the visit would have helped her unstop whatever block she had put on her powers but she was surprisingly quiet on the way back, and I wondered if perhaps the visit had done more harm than good **.**

The next morning I woke up before dawn, getting dressed and headed down towards her rooms. Today we were going to investigate yet another body left by that horrid creature and I was in a less than stellar mood at the fact I'd been unable to make any progress on what the hell it was, let alone in actually catching the damn thing **.** She was gone when I got there, presumably grabbing breakfast in the kitchens and I leaned against the doorway **,** waiting until she appeared to shove the bag I'd brought into her hands and telling her to pack some clothes. When she was done I slung the bag over my shoulder, and didn't utter another word to her until the fortress was far behind us. I didn't stop until we were in a clearing surrounded by mist covered trees and shrugged off my hood as she did the same, the cold morning air rushing over me. "Shift and let's go," I snapped at her. I was in no mood for games this morning and she _could_ shift, she was just too damn afraid most of the time.

"And here I was, thinking we'd become friends," she said, her voice lilting in sarcasm.

"It's twenty miles," I said, shooting her a wicked grin, "We're running. Each way." I could practically hear her limbs quaking at the thought. She shouldn't be though, I thought with a flash of irritation. If she'd just shift, she could run twenty miles, thirty even as easy as breathing.

"And _where_ are we going?" She cocked her head, sending me a loathsome look.

"There was another body- a demi-Fae from a neighboring fortress. Dumped in the same area, same patterns. I want to go to the nearby town to question the citizens but..." I clenched my jaw, thinking about how much easier this would be if I was just working by myself. "But I need your help. It'll be easier for the mortals to talk to you."

"Is that a compliment?" She asked, shooting me a grin that caused me to roll my eyes.

"Shift, or it'll take us twice as long."

"I can't, you know it doesn't work like that," she sighed, clearly exasperated with this conversation.

That made two of us. "Don't you want to see how fast you can run?" I said, finding myself genuinely interested in the answer. She must have wondered how fast she's could run, how much power was just waiting to burst from her bones. Hell, I wanted to. I wanted to know what made her so special- wanted to see how far I couldn't push her before she broke. If only she would just shift for god's sake. Yes, she was afraid of it, the fear was what was blocking her powers. But there was some other reason, something she wasn't telling me.

"I can't even use my other form in Adarlan anyway, so what's the point?" I could feel the hopelessness washing over her again and interrupted before she could continue.

"The point is that your here now and you haven't properly tested your limits. The point is, another husk of a body was found and I consider that to be unacceptable." I said the last words with a touch of venom and watched anger flicker in her eyes. "Unless your still frightened," I said, suppressing a grin at her flare of annoyance after I gave her braid a slight tug.

Her nostrils flared. "The only thing that frightens me is how very much I want to throttle you." She was angry yes, but not with me (okay maybe a tiny bit towards me). She was angry at whatever foul beast had been doing all this killing. And with that anger, a furious heat began to burn inside her.

"Hone it- the anger," I murmured. "Let it be a blade, Aelin. If you cannot find the peace, then at least hone the anger that guides you to the shift. Embrace and control it- it is not your enemy."

Uncertainty washed over her, "This will not end well."

I ignored her. "See what you want, Aelin and seize it. Don't ask for it, don't wish for it. Take it," I said firmly, feeling her power jump at my words.

"I'm certain the average magic teacher would not recommend this to most people." I could sense it now, the slipping reign she held on her control. She wanted to, needed to let that power out.

"You are not most people, and I think you like it that way. If it's a darker set of emotions that will help you shift on command, then that's what we'll use. There might come a day when you find that anger doesn't work, or when it is a crutch, but for now..." I trailed off, thinking back to every time she had shifted. No matter the circumstance, the reason she had done it had been out of anger. Anger at me for the words I had spat at her, angry that I had dared risk Luca's life. She took a deep, shaky breath. And with a silent growl, she shifted. Her teeth sharpening, ears becoming pointed in a quick burst of light. I could feel the power thrumming off her, a living tangible thing.

I flashed her a taunting grin and darted behind her, giving her braid a firm tug. She whirled around but I was already gone, pinching her side and causing her to give a yelp of indignation. "Stop-" she growled, baring her teeth. I was standing in front of her now, trying not to laugh at the way she crossed her arms, looking like a child about to throw a temper tantrum. I shot to the left, ready to give her a sharp pinch in the side when I felt her elbow strike down on my hand, blocking my strike as she dealt a blow to my head with the back of her hand. I stopped mid step, struggling to keep the shock off my features. She flashed me a smirk and I bared my teeth in a taunting grin. "Oh, you better run now," I said, lunging at her. Her face spreading into a grin, she flew backwards and plunged into the trees.

•••

I let her get ahead for the first few minutes, letting her adjust to her new speed before I sped up, slipping through the trees with ease. Nothing could beat this, the feeling of the wind rushing past, my feet barely touching the forest floor. I could tell she was feeling it now, the pure elation that only completely letting go could bring. I was gaining on her now, the speed at which she dashed through the trees leaving nothing but a blur of blonde electricity. Every time I neared her she veered away, flying through the trees with ease. We reached a plateau and she sped up, flying over the ground with such speed even I had to push harder to keep pace with her. I could feel the energy coming off her, pure joy filling the air around her as she flew across the ground. I went to grab her but she dodged it with ease, letting out a whoop as she swung herself onto a branch. I lunged at her again, snapping at her with my teeth as she leapt up on a rock to avoid me. I kept pace with her, for once not trying to attack her and just running alongside her. She glanced over at me, clearly expecting me to jump on her at any moment but I just smiled. For once there was no contempt or taunt attached, just pure joy as we hurtled through trees and wind and woods.

•••

By the time we'd reached our destination, we were both panting and sweaty. I turned towards her, watching as she wiped sweat from her brow and turned to look at me. Whatever joy I had felt while running had dissipated, leaving only icy anger in its place. I tossed her the extra shirt I had brought for her, turning away from her and pulling off my own. She slipped into the trees, appearing out of them a few moments later. I still don't understand why she refused to change in front of me. It wouldn't be anything I hadn't seen before I thought as I tossed her a water skein. She gulped it down quickly, and as we headed towards the nearby village she was silent except for the occasional sip of water. By the time we reached the town though, I wondered if it had been worth the trip at all. Windows were soon shut tight and so were people's mouths, despite my attempts at politeness. No, they hadn't heard anything about the bodies. No, nothing strange had happened. Anyone we managed to speak to insisted they were perfectly fine, and made it quite clear they didn't appreciate fae interference. Aelin had even tried flirting with a stable boy, to rather unsurprisingly disappointing results. I hadn't had any more luck with the taproom maid, and I was beginning to think it was a lost cause. The heat was sweltering and I was starting to debate heading back early, especially since Aelin had been getting more and more irritated as the day went on.

"I could believe it was a half-wild-creature if at least some of them knew these people had vanished," grumbled Aelin as we made our way down the suddenly empty street, "but consistently selecting someone who wouldn't be missed or noticed? It must be sentient enough to know who to target. The demi-Fae has to be a message. But what? To stay away? Then why leave bodies in the first place?" Her fingers tugged on the end of her braid as she stopped in front of a clothiers window, her eyes moving critically over the displayed dresses. The woman inside took one look at us and yanked the curtains shut. I couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle at her look of indignation and she whirled on me, scowling. "Your used to this I assume?"

"A lot of Fae who venture into mortal lands have earned themselves a reputation for... taking what they want. It went unchecked for too many years, but even though our laws are stricter now the fear remains," I told her, my voice grim.

"Who enforces these laws?" She asked, still twirling the end of her braid.

I flashed her a grin. "I do. When I'm not off campaigning, my aunt has me hunt down the rogues."

"And kill them?" I had to admit it was nice to not hear disgust paired with that statement. Just curiosity.

I grinned at her again, "If the situation calls for it. Or I just haul them back to Doranelle and let Maeve decide what to do with them."

"I think I'd prefer death at your hands to death at Maeve's," she said.

"That might be the first wise thing you've said to me," I told her. And it was true. Despite my experience, it was nothing compared to Maeve's sadistic talent for inflicting pain.

"The demi-Fae said you have five other warrior friends. Do they hunt with you? How often do you see them?" She cocked her head, and I realized how long it had been since someone had asked me a question out of pure curiosity.

"I see them whenever the situation calls for it. Maeve has them serve her as she sees fit, as she does with me. It is an honor to be a warrior serving in her inner circle." I don't know what made me add on that part at the end, or what to do with the fact Iw felt like I needed to justify my service to Maeve whenever she asked about it.

I looked around. The street was completely abandoned, even the vendors having packed up their carts. Aelin sniffed the air. "Did you bring any money?" She asked. I gave her a questioning look before telling her I had, mentioning that it didn't matter, they wouldn't take her bribes. "Good. More for me then," she said, pointing towards a sign titled _Confectionary_. "If we can't win them with our charm, we might as well win them with our business."

I started to protest but she was already headed towards the shop, entering and flashing the woman behind the counter a too bright smile. And she did the same thing in every other shop we visited that afternoon, smiling and laughing and charming the villagers until the streets were once again filled with the sounds of shouting vendors.

•••

Apparently when silver becomes involved people suddenly became very cooperative. Aelins plan had turned out far more successful than I had predicted and I soon found myself grudgingly carrying her bags as we strolled down the street as Aelin licked her fingers clean of the chocolate she had just inhaled. Despite her best efforts, the villagers hadn't known anything. One man had said he'd found some knives in his fishing nets, but other than that they hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. And as we declined the suddenly available room at the inn, Aelin telling me she would rather not see me disembowel a would be thief and instead made camp under the forest canopy, I realized the day hadn't been as bad as I had expected and that spending time with her without murder investigations or beating each other to a pulp had been less painful then I thought.

I woke before her the next morning, collecting some wood and arranging it into a fire ready pile. By the time I had settled down beside it she was awake, flying up from her sleeping position with a gasp. I didn't say anything as she took a few seconds to calm her frantic breathing, her eyes tracing the scar curving the length of her palm. I was all too familiar with the wild look in her eyes and before she could spiral into whatever pit her sleep mind had brought her to the precipice of I spoke. "Do you want breakfast?" My voice rang out sharply through the near silent clearing. Her piercing blue eyes flew over to me as if she had forgotten I was there, nodding as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. "Then start the fire." I caught myself making sure to say it casually, somewhat hoping it would spark her back to her normally snarky state.

"You can't be serious," she groaned. When I didn't respond she turned her body towards the wood, her hand stretched out before her.

"Pointing is a crutch. You mind can direct the flames just fine," I said, ignoring her comment about like the dramatics to give her a look that said she better just light the damn fire.

To my surprise she focused back on the logs without any return comment or look, this time leaving her hand by her side. The wood began to smoke as her magic crackled to life. It was more tense then usual, cracking into the air like a whip.

"Easy," I murmured, mildly impressed by the small stem of smoke she had managed to keep curling steadily out of the wood. "A knife, remember. You are in control."

The fire steadily grew, and I began to wonder if she would actually do it on the first try. And then, just when I thought she had a handle on the now steadily crackling fire the clearing exploded into flames and with then a surge of her power, leaving the air with a trace of charred ashes even after I cleared the flames with my wind.

When I was done I looked back over at her, the look on her face making me think she didn't need my criticism right now. "At least you didn't panic and shift back into your human form," I said. I had meant for it to be somewhat comforting or for her to respond back with some snarky comment. _I hardly_ _think Maeve will want me to light a campfire for her, Rowan._ She just nodded though, the tension I had been feeling from her since she'd woken up replaced by the faintest trace of her magic drifting in the air.

 **A new chapter? What? Sorry once again for the long break between chapters, I know you guys probably don't care about my pathetic excuses though. I'm forcing myself to write the next chapter right after this though, so hopefully it's up sooner rather than later. Oh and we hit 11k+ views! Like what? That's insane. I do want to thank all of the lovely lovely lovely people who reviewed/followed/favorited this story- you're the reason I'm still writing this. Especially one lovely review from saaaaaamsayshi who said that they check this fic weekly for updates. I'm so sorry you have to deal with me and my terrible/nonexistent updating schedule. I've literally had your review saved on my phone since I saw it, just to guilt me into writing this. So thank you so much! Hopefully I'll be updating this again soon!**

 **By the way, I have a tumblr under the name tillwhateverend if you guys want to check it out! Feel free to harass me on there to update, or if you just want to talk! I'm always looking for friends in this fandom and if you told me you were from here I would probably scream. So yeah, that's it! Love you all!**

 **Jordan**


	11. Chapter 11

_I had meant for it to be somewhat comforting or for her to respond back with some snarky comment. I hardly think Maeve will want me to light a campfire for her, Rowan. She just nodded though, the tension I had been feeling from her since she'd woken up replaced by the faintest trace of her magic drifting in the air._

 **All rights go to the lovely Sarah J. Mass. I own nothing but my own interpretation of this beautiful couple :)**

Thankfully, no new bodies had been discovered in the past week and I found myself wishing I was the kind of person to be content with the idea whoever or whatever had killed those people was long gone. I knew better though, and found myself mulling over the details almost constantly. Then again, it wasn't like I had anything else time to do considering the majority of my days were spent at the ruins of the Sun Goddesses Temple, waiting for Aelin to light a gods damned candle.

Since she had finally managed to master shifting, that was her new task. To light a candle without destroying everything in sight. So far, it wasn't going so well. Not to mention her increasingly foul mood, each attempt left either her, the ruins, or the occasional nearby tree a little worse for wear. And by now I was starting to get the feeling if I made her stare at candles much longer she was going to figuratively- and literally- explode.

Her appetite certainly had, and I found myself keeping a constant supply of food on hand. If there was one thing Aelin Galathynius did not lack, it was an appetite. If only her same fervor for devouring food transferred over to her desire to control her magic then maybe we'd already be rid of each other. That said, despite my instincts I found myself falling into a relatively comfortable schedule. Making the trek up to the ruins each morning, followed by a day of listening to Aelin whine and grumble about how incredibly bored and tired and hungry she was.

The days and nights seemed to blend together in an endless torrent of rain, prompting the return of Emrys stories each night. And each night for some reason I found myself perched by the door in my hawk form, listening to Emrys stories. Aelin was there every night too, standing by the sink scrubbing pots and pans for so long some nights I knew she would be complaining about how badly her back hurt in the morning. Some nights though she sat beside the back door, and I found myself coming a bit closer each time. It was on one of those nights, the rain pounding against the windows as Aelin stood by the sink scrubbing dishes when she asked it, her voice breaking the lulled chatter.

"Do you know any stories about Queen Maeve?" Her question was met with a beat of heavy silence and more then a few glances towards my place by the door. Emrys to his credit let his eyes show his surprise for only a second before his mouth spread into a tentative, if not slightly forced smile.

"Lots," he said, his voice quelling any remaining murmurs. "Which one would you like to hear?"

"The earliest one that you know. All of them," said Aelin. She was either unaware or didn't care about the nervous silence that still hung in the room, and I guessed it was the latter.

As Emrys began his story she slid into her normal place by the back door but despite being mere feet from me she refused to look in my direction, ignoring the chastising click of my beak and instead choosing to dig into a loaf of bread. I didn't say anything though, finding myself content to sit and listen to Emrys weave the tale of Maeve and her sisters to push any more and when Aelin's voice once again broke the rooms silence as she asked if Maeve had ever mated I managed to resist the urge to reach over and peck her. Emrys didn't skip a beat though, telling her of the warrior who had once held Maeve's heart before his untimely death. He went on to mention Maeve's powerful bond with the male warriors she now kept, causing Aelin to shoot a furtive glance in my direction.

Emrys told his tales well into the night, the entire room entranced including Aelin who's eyes had not left his the entire evening besides when she went to grab more food and I wondered if I should ask her why she cared so much about Maeve. But this night was already promising to be more emotionally charged than I liked and I figured no harm could come from some old tales of family drama.

Emrys had just finished telling a story, the soft lull of conversation filling the room when every nerve in my body jumped to attention. I felt him before I saw him, a natural instinct and bond that could only be forged with time and trust signaling he was close. My feathers ruffled out of instinct and I moved impatiently from my place by the door. Moments later he appeared from the trees, his sleek rain-soaked hide gleaming in the moonlight. His eyes even in his animal form shone with barely concealed grief as he slipped through the long grass, muscles rippling with that easy, unrelenting power. Then in a flash of light a tall, broad shouldered male was where the mountain cat had once stood. His shoulders slumped slightly more then usual, the pain I could smell on him even from here jerking me from my perch by the door. I shifted mid flight, landing in the grass without a sound and stepping towards him. I grasped his arm as he clapped me on the back, pulling back to study his rain soaked face. His hand reached up to wipe the water from his brow, a deep breath shuddering through him as he began to speak. "I know you probably don't want to-"

I cut him off mid sentence. After all these years it never ceased to amaze me how Gavriel still underestimated what I would do for him. "Just tell me what you want and it will be done," I said, my voice firm and solid as I led him inside through the rain.

•••

The next few hours passed in a blur of silence and needles and ink, broken only by Gavriel's voice as he spoke of his fallen men. It was why when a knock sounded at the door I simply snapped out a harsh "What?" before returning to the task at hand. It was why I didn't look up until I heard her voice, soft and unsure from where she stood in the doorway with a tray of stew balanced on her hip.

"I thought you might want some stew and-" she broke off mid sentence, seeming to have suddenly realized what she had walked into. I was sitting at my work table, Gavriel stretched across it as I painstakingly worked the tattoo into his immortal flesh. I froze, my eyes snapping to her and from the look she met me with I knew she could see the fury burning in my gaze. I could feel Gavriels pain, had been absorbing it for the past few hours and didn't have to look over at him to know the pain filling his eyes had nothing to do with the tattoo being engraved into his skin. I watched her eyes flicker over the scene, the needles and ink and rag soaked with blood.

"Get out," I snapped, trying only for the sake of Gavriel to keep my voice flat and cold. But her eyes didn't leave the table or the warrior stretched across it, didn't break my gaze as she asked if she should leave the stew.

"Leave it," I spat, and I could tell by the look in her eyes she knew how completely, incontestably furious I was.

I kept me eyes fixed on her as she set the tray down on the bed and headed back towards the door. "Sorry to interrupt," she murmured, casting one last glance back at me and Gavriel before uttering one last apology and slipping back outside, the door snapping shut behind her.

I made it a matter of ten seconds before rising to my feet and flinging open the door, storming out into the hallway and slamming it behind me. She was leaning against the wall but spun around at the sound of me storming up behind her. I barely registered the look in her eyes, but there was enough apprehension in it that I knew she knew just how pissed I was at her. For a fraction of a second I paused, trying to force some of the ire coursing through me to calm at the look in her eyes- one fleeting glance of sorrow and embarrassment and grief. But just as soon as it appeared it was gone, her features rearranging themselves into a scowl so quickly I knew I must have been imagining that fleeting moment of vulnerability.

Any semblance of restraint I still held snapped when the next words slipped out of her mouth. "Do you do it for money?"

I didn't try to stop my teeth from baring in a growl. Rage coursed through me so thick and fast I knew I was already too far gone to rein it back in. And I had every right to be angry- it was none of her gods damn business what I did in my free time. And to assume I did it for _money._ I wasn't like her. I didn't do things for money or jewels or glory. I wasn't some gods damn _assassin_ from Adarlan. I told her as much, the words coming out feral and cold.

She stared at me for a moment, her gaze hard and piercing as glass. But there was something lurking in her eyes, something besides hatred that almost made my anger hault it's roaring. "You know, it might be better if you just slapped me instead." The words were just like her gaze, cold and hard with something else buried underneath.

"Instead of what?" I snapped, the anger still raging underneath my skin. I could smell the fire coursing through her veins, the same way I had that day I had bitten her in the woods. The desire I had felt for her that day, the desire to get a taste of that pure fire she held in her bones was still there inside of me, overshadowed only by the anger I still hadn't found control over.

"Instead of reminding me again and again how rutting worthless and awful and cowardly I am. Believe me, I can do the job well enough on my own. So just hit me, because I'm damned tired of trading insults. And you know what? You didn't even bother to tell me you'd be unavailable. If you'd said something, I never would have come. I'm sorry I did. But you just _left_ me downstairs," she said, her voice filled with anger and exasperation until she reached the final sentence and it broke.

It was that, the last six words she uttered that pushed me off whatever edge I had been riding since she entered my rooms- maybe since we had met that day in Wendlyn. It didn't matter that what she had said, about how worthless she felt had tugged at something within me that I hadn't felt in a very long time. It didn't matter that for a moment I had felt almost sorry for her. Those words erased it all. Took whatever sliver of forgiveness that had wormed its way into my heart and ripped it out with a blinding flash of memories and pain. Memories of flowers girls in a market and a house on a hilltop and so much grief and guilt I couldn't begin to unravel it.

I barely heard her when she continued to speak, the words floating over me as her previous one cracked my carefully built damn and swept me into that roaring river of pain I had kept at bay for so long. Made my next words came pouring out of my mouth in a flood of vicious, empty syllables before I could even think about stopping them."There is nothing that I can give you. Nothing I want to give you. You are not owed an explanation for what I do outside of training. I don't care what you have been through or what you want to do with your life. The sooner you can sort out your whining and self-pity, the sooner I can be rid of you. You are nothing to me, and I do not care."

There was a single beat of silence. I could hear my breath coming out in pants, the anger that had been so relentlessly rushing through me slightly depleted now that the words had left my mouth. I didn't say anything though, didn't move a muscle as I watched her face fall into a mask of cold numbness. As I watched the fire burning in her eyes flicker- and go out. And without a word she turned and walked away from me.

•••

I didn't go after her, even though some small part of me that had awoken and refused to stop mulling over the words I had said to her told me to. Said to her, knowing that they would hurt her. When I stepped back into the room wrapped in cold silence Gavriel had looked at me like he wanted to say something but one look from me had shut him up. I had spent the entirety of the night tattooing his flesh and the sun had already risen by the time I stood at the borders of Mistward and watched him disappear into the forest. I knew I should go talk to her- make some attempt at an apology. But still I found myself ignoring the pressing urge to go find her.

I eventually forced myself to go to the kitchen, the same part that was telling me to find her almost tugging me towards it. I entered to find it empty save for Emrys who was sitting at an abandoned work table with his hands wrapped around a steaming mug. I almost turned around to go look somewhere else or maybe just abandon whatever it was I was doing here in the first place until I saw his eyes were glistening with grief. For a moment, I found myself hoping she had leftc, that she had abandoned whatever she thought she had to prove to her aunt and gotten the hell away from this fortress- and from me. The door behind Emrys that lead outside had been thrown wide open- she must have gone that way. I was tempted to just turn around and head back to my rooms but what I'd said to her wouldn't stop echoing in my brain and for some reason I didn't want her to leave thinking that was all I thought of her. I gave Emrys a nod as I stepped towards the door but stopped when his voice rang throughout the room. "What are you doing?"

"What?" I said in confusion as I turned around to face him.

Emrys voice was quiet as he said, "To that girl. What are you doing that makes her come in here with such emptiness in her eyes?"

I took me a moment to collect myself enough to say my words with that familiar tone- one of equal indifference and authority. "That's none of your concern."

Emrys didn't do anything but press his lips further together until they were a straight, hard line. "What do you see when you look at her, Prince?"

I didn't know. These days, I didn't know a damn thing. "That's none of your concern, either."

"I see her slipping away, bit by bit, because you shove her down when she so desperately needs someone to help her back up." His words were filled with enough judgment I couldn't stop myself from snapping back.

"I don't see why I would be of any use to-"

He didn't even give me a chance to finish my sentence. "Did you know that Evalin Ashryver was my friend? She spent almost a year working in this kitchen—living here with us, fighting to convince your queen that demi-Fae have a place in your realm. She fought for our rights until the very day she departed this kingdom—and the many years after, until she was murdered by those monsters across the sea. So I knew. I knew who her daughter was the moment you brought her into this kitchen. All of us who were here twenty-five years ago recognized her for what she is."

I knew then why he had had that look in his eyes the day I introduced Aelin to him. Why I could have sworn I saw a hint of recognition -of respect- in the eyes of some of the demi-fae here when they looked at Aelin. It had been centuries since I had felt any degree of shock, since something had surprised me but this-

"She has no hope, Prince. She has no hope left in her heart. Help her. If not for her sake, then at least for what she represents—what she could offer all of us, you included," Emrys murmured, his gaze burning with sadness as he watched me.

In all the years I had known Emrys I had never seen him like this. So maybe it made me stupid for what I said next. "And what is that?" My voice sounded cold and empty, contrary to whatever was now simmering in my blood.

Emrys met me with an unflinching look as he whispered, his voice filling the room. "A better world."

•••

I found her a few miles from the fortress, perched on the mossy bank of the lake. she had wrapped her arms around herself, her head buried in her arms. And there was such despair radiating from her, full of tears and screams and some long gone fire that I couldn't stop myself from releasing a gust of magic filled with ice and roaring winds as I sat down beside her, my legs stretched out in front of me and my palms braced against the damp, mossy ground. She raised her head from where it had been resting in her hands, tears coating her cheeks but she didn't look away from the glistening lake as I spoke.

"Do you want to talk about it?" My voice was quiet, seeming far too intrusive on the somewhat peaceful silence she still held.

"No." Her words were quieter than mine and for a moment I thought she would tell me to leave. I realized I would leave, if she truly didn't want to be near me. But she just swallowed a few times before pulling out a handkerchief and using it to blow her nose.

We sat in silence, listening to the water lap against the mossy bank and the wind rustling in the leaves. I could feel it calling to me even now, a soft murmur that tingled in my blood. And as I sat there I realized that maybe I had said those words, that I had managed to hurt her because for so long I hadn't seen a way out of the sea of despair I had fallen into after Lyria died. Hadn't, until her. And that-moving on, had scared the hell out of me. And with that thought I spoke, far more hesitant to break the peaceful silence then I should have been. "Good- because we're going."

"Bastard." The words slipped from her lips as she shot me a vicious glare. "Going *where*?"

I met her unflinching stare with a grim smile. "I think I've started to figure you out, Aelin Galathynius."

 **Guys I actually updated a reasonable time after the last one! Woooo! Actually though I'm so proud of myself. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I tried extra hard to make it super good and long for you guys. We're getting into the juicy bits now too so I'm excited. Also next time I update will likely no be until after ACOFAS comes out so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I'm going to! Love you guys!**

 **Jordan**


	12. Chapter 12

_Bastard." The word slipped from her lips as she shot me a vicious glare. "Going where?" I met her unflinching stare with a grim smile. "I think I've started to figure you out, Aelin Galathynius."_

 **So I fully intended to have another chapter up before this but while I was writing this past week my writing app decided to delete 5,000 words I'd written for this story so yeah... that sucked. I tried really hard to get it back but I don't think it's going to happen. I'm really bummed too because I actually really liked what I was writing and tried to make it extra good for you guys. So if the second part of this story isn't as good as the first time or something seems off about it I'm sorry. I tried my best to replicate it the same way but obviously couldn't remember everything I'd written exactly So yeah- I hope you guys like it!**

 **Edit: I wrote this when I was very tired and depressed... the story is fine lol it's proably better than before. Just leaving this here for an accurate representation of the amount of mood swings that went into this chapter.**

 **All rights go to the incredible Sarah J. Mass. I own nothing but my own interpretation of this beautiful story. Hope you enjoy :)**

"What in every burning ring of hell are we doing here?" The words curled out of Aelin's mouth in a vicious snarl. We were standing in front of the cave I'd found nestled at the base of the mountain, the sun glaring down on us from it's low position in the sky. Aelin stood by my side still panting after the five mile trek, a look of apprehension in her eyes as she studied the cave entrance. Ignoring what was I'm sure was about to be a very impassioned speech about not going into random caves I walked into the caves yawning mouth, snapping at her to hurry up. To my surprise she actually listened, following me into the cave without a sound. I could still sense her unease as the cold blackness engulfed us though and had to resist commenting on it.

The ground was rocky, littered with enough rusted armor and weapons and dark enough I was glad I had already traced a path through earlier. Not waiting to see if she followed I stalked towards the waiting lake, stopping at the edge and rolling my shoulders in an attempt to release some of the tension clutching at me as I waited for-

"Tell me I'm hallucinating." Aelin's voice was laced with equal parts disbelief and anger as she spotted what waited for her at the center of the frozen lake. Something that was likely to get me more than one strongly worded lecture later. Because sitting in the center of the lake, wrapped in a blanket with chains attached to his wrists that lead into the icy depths below, was Luca.

The chain attached to his wrists gave a loud clank as he raised his hand in greeting and there was a cheerful smile plastered on his face as he said, "I thought you'd never show. I'm freezing."

"What is this place?" She asked, ignoring Luca, her voice echoing throughout the large chamber.

"Go get him," was my only response.

"Are you out of your mind?" I smirked at the furious disbelief in her tone, the look she gave me suggesting just how crazy she thought I was and shot her a grin. I probably _was_ out of my mind to risk Emrys and Malakai's wrath when they found out I'd dragged Luca into this. Nevertheless the plan I had formed earlier was more likely to work than anything I'd tried so far, unconventional as it was. The way I saw it whatever was ingrained in her blood that made Aelin want to protect people so badly had worked to my advantage in her training so far and personally I was starting to get tired of waiting for her to gain control over her magic the old fashioned way.

Aelin seemed to have given up on trying to reason with me and had begun to head out onto the ice before I threw out an arm to stop her, the grin not leaving my face as I said, "In your other form."

Luca shifted closer from his place on the ice. Aelin's body was taught with apprehension as she turned to me and murmured, "He doesn't know what I am."

"You've been living in a fortress of demi-Fae you know. He won't care," I shot back in an equally low voice. I had never gotten why she was so reluctant to reveal her Fae form. I was telling her the truth when I said no one would care. Besides, Luca's reaction to her Fae form should be the least of her current concerns.

Fire flickered to life in her eyes. "How dare you drag him into this?"

"You dragged him yourself when you insulted him- and Emrys. The least you can do is retrieve him." I had worked out that much from my conversation with Emrys earlier and Luca had managed to fill in the missing gaps on our way here. Maybe if she didn't hate me entirely by the end of this I'd ask her why a knife from Eyllwe meant so damn much.

Not waiting for her response I blew out a breath in the direction of the lake, freezing the ice more to create a path straight to Luca.

"I hope you brought snacks!" Luca called. "I'm starving. Hurry up, Elentiya. Rowan said you had to do this as part of your training and..." his voice faded into the background as Aelin whirled around to face me, eyes burning.

"What is the gods-damned point of this? Just punishment for acting like an ass?" Even with the anger in her voice I could still sense her growing unease vanishing any doubts however faint I had about her desire to save Luca.

"You can control your power in human form—keep it dormant. But the moment you switch, the moment you get agitated or angry or afraid, the moment you remember how much your power scares you, your magic rises up to protect you. It doesn't understand that you are the source of those feelings, not some external threat. When there is an outside threat, when you forget to fear your power long enough, you have control. Or some control." I pointed to the sheet of ice between her and Luca. "So free him."

A flicker of fear from her. "What happens to Luca if I fail?"

"He'll be very cold and very wet. And possibly die," I said with a grin, making sure it held enough malice so she would believe I would actually let Luca go under. Not that I would. Besides the fact that Emrys would skin me alive, I actually liked Luca when he wasn't babbling like an gods-damned idiot. Her on the other hand-

"Were the chains really necessary? He'll go straight to the bottom." She didn't even try to hide the panic blooming in her voice as she said it. When there was no response from me she held out her hand, no doubt expecting me to place the key to Luca's chains in it, her face going pale when I didn't.

"Control is your key. And focus. Cross the lake, then figure out how to free him without drowning the both of you," I told her.

She balked, the flames in her eyes flickering in annoyance. "Don't give me a lesson like your some mystical-nonsense master! This is the _stupidest_ thing I have ever had to-"

I cut her off with a grin. Oh this was going to be _fun_. "Hurry," I said, making the ice groan in warning. Her eyes stayed locked on me and her body was taut with irritation and fear but she took one step closer to the ice.

"You are a _bastard,_ " she snarled,anger practically radiating off her as she shifted in a flash of light.

"I was waiting to see your Fae form!" Lucas cheered. "We were all taking bets on when..." I swear if he kept on talking in that carefree, too happy for his own good tone and I would starte to debate actually letting him go under.

Aelin's head whipped around to glare at me. "It gives me comfort to know that people like you have a special place in hell waiting for them," she growled, flashing her teeth at me.

I almost laughed. "Tell me something I don't already know."

She made a vulgar gesture at me over her shoulder as she stepped onto the ice. Her steps were small and tentative at first as she made her way out onto the lake, Luca having finally stopped his incessant chatter. When she had walked far enough that the lakes full depths lay below her I made the ice groan causing her to stop moving mid step, her breath hitching. I grinned, unable to stop myself from letting the ice give another groan and crack slightly, her eyes growing wide and her breathing faster as she watched the ice around her splinter. "Stop it," she hissed, still frozen in place and not daring to look back at me.

I felt her magic flicker to lie, a molten lick of flame against my cold wall of ice and wind. From the slight lurch of her body I knew she felt it but she just took another step towards Luca, tightening the reins on her magic as she went. "Elentiya?" Luca's voice was hesitant and I felt the already weak hold she had on her magic slip at the unexpected noise. I swear, if this entire thing blows up in my face because Luca can't keep his damn mouth shut-

Aelin held out a hand to silence Luca, her breathing tight as she fought the panic rising in her. I stopped the ice from cracking but made sure it remained thin around her feet. If she went under... well maybe a quick dip in the icy cold would knock some sense into her. Make her realize how vital it was- Maeve or not- to learn to control her magic. She had started to move again, her feet barely lifting off the ice as she went. A few notes of some melody floated from her lips as she slid across the ice, her magic going quiet for a moment. It still burned to life a little stronger with every breath though and I felt fear once again hit her as she inched towards Luca.

"Elentiya?" Luca asked again, his voice filled with slightly more concern than the last time. Aelin's eyes remained locked on the ice though as I felt her magic balk at whatever thoughts were running through her head. The ice cracked again, this time not because of me.

" _You_ are in control now," I said from my place at the shore. "You are it's master."

I didn't get a response from her, not even a snarl to tell me to shut the hell up but she took another step toward Luca anyways. Halfway, she was halfway now. I felt the doubt flickering in her though, could almost feel the lack of control she felt as she hovered on the icy plain. "You are the keeper of her own fate," I murmured, not taking my eyes off her as she once again began to hum and took another step towards Luca.

Confident she had managed to regain some semblance of control I almost missed the glare she shot over her shoulder as I turned to walk along the shore, studying the ground in search of that blade. The blade that had made me choose this cave for our little training exercise. I felt a sense of triumph flicker through at her continued path across the ice, approaching a crevice I spotted in the cave wall.

Luca's voice floated towards me from across the lake as Aelin neared him. "You have nothing to hide, you know. We all knew you could shift, anyway." I felt a small bit of tension leave Aelin at that and Luca's mouth widened in a grin. "If it makes you feel any better, Sten's animal form is a pig. He won't even shift for shame."

A flicker of amusement from Aelin before she once again focused her attention on the task in front of her, the choice I knew she had to make forming in her mind. Burn through the ice and risk sending them both to the bottom- or burn through the chains and also risk burning Luca with the heat from the manacles around his wrists. I could practically _hear_ her mind cursing me out.

"Erm," Luca's said in a failed attempt to lighten the mood, "I'll forgive every awful thing you said earlier if we can go eat something right now. It smells awful in here."

"Just hold still and stop talking," Aelin snapped as she slid closer to where the chains met the ice and knelt, her hand sliding slowly across the ice. She took a deep breath, pressing her palm against the ice by the chain. The ice glowed red where her hand rested, splintering around the two of them.

"Control," I barked as I finally yanked the sword from its place in the wall, it's gold hilt glinting in the caves dim light. Aelin clamped down on her magic at that- hard. It halted, leaving a small hole in the ice where her hand had been- still not large enough to free the chain. I felt her magic surge to life again but she held it in a firm grip, not letting her control on it slip. I could feel it crackling throughout the cave, felt it in my very bones. Then there was the clink of metal, a hiss of flame against ice and- "Oh, thank the gods." Luca practically moaned the words from where he sat on the ice, now hauling the length of the chain out of the hole Aelin had burned through the ice.

Aelin reeled her magic back in again, leaving nothing but a cold emptiness where I had just felt it thrashing against mine. "Please tell me you brought food," said Luca, who was still staring at Aelin with overwhelmed relief.

"Is that why you came?" Aelin growled at him. "Rowan promised you snacks?"

"I'm a growing boy," he said but then looked towards me and winced. "And you don't say no to him."

I felt her irritation at me flare again- live and teeming in the air between us now that the threat of Luca going under was no longer blocking it. Oh, she was pissed. I half expected her to hurl flames across the ice at me but she just sighed and studied the small hole she had made. A gods damned miracle if you look at it compared to her training just yesterday. I felt satisfaction fill her for a moment. Maybe- just maybe she wouldn't bit my head off for this.

But her momentary satisfaction was gone as soon as it came, replaced by a sense of horror so strong I whipped my head around to look at her, gaze locked on the ice below her- and at the giant red eye staring back.

I opened my mouth to let out a few choice words at the sight of that eye, at the jagged white line gleaming unnervingly far from it but Aelin beat me to it, the stream of words that came out of her mouth so vulgar Luca choked. "Get off the ice _now_ ," she hissed at Luca, not taking her eyes off the eye peering up at them. _Shit._

"Holy gods," Luca gasped as he peered over Aelin's shoulder. "What _is_ that?"

"Shut up and go," was Aelin's only response as she met my wide eyed gaze. Iwknew she could tell from the strained look on my face I hadn't known the lake wasn't empty.

"Now Luca," I growled and slid my sword from its sheath, the blade I had drawn from the cave wall in my other hand. I couldn't stop the note of urgency from escaping my voice because that thing- whatever the hell it was- was now lazily swimming towards Aelin and Luca's spot on the ice and I doubted it was from simple curiosity. Suddenly, I was far too aware of how thin the ice beneath Aelin and Luca's feet was.

Luca didn't move though. He just stood there trembling and growing increasingly paler before Aelin surged to her feet, the ice letting out a loud groan at the sudden movement and grabbed him by the elbow. "Don't look down," she hissed. I let my power creep out onto the ice, thickening it to create a clear path back to the shore. "Go," Aelin told Luca and she shoved him towards land.

Luca thankfully started to move but Aelin didn't follow him. Her eyes remained locked on the ice, on the pale, too-large mass gliding in the water below. "Faster," I growled at her, at them. If that thing broke through the ice-

A flash of white in the water beneath Aelin had her starting to edge herself towards the shore. Then the tail of whatever it was that lurked in the water below slammed against the ice and the whole cave jolted, Aelin's magic flaring to life along with it.

When the world reordered itself Aelin was on her hands and knees, her magic pulsating in the frigid air. I watched her scramble backwards as the scaly, horned head of the beast lurched toward her and the ice jolted again. I could feel my control on the lake slipping, the ice cracking along the far edges of the lake as if whatever lurked beneath the surface was slicing through my magic with its teeth. It took all my concentration to keep the thin bridge of ice Aelin was on frozen and sweat was starting to creep onto my brow. The increasing difficulty almost made me miss Aelin's voice sounding from where she was still sliding backwards on the ice. "Weapon," she gasped, her eyes never leaving the creature gliding through the water below her.

Unable to keep another bark of _hurry_ from escaping my lips I slid the golden blade across the ice on a conjured wind. Luca was still shuffling towards the shore when Aelin's hand grasped the sword and she whipped the blade free. A glint of gold as the ring I knew rested on the blade was smothered by her hand shoving it into her pocket. The ice jolted again but Aelin remained upright this time, sinking back onto her haunches as she clutched the sword. Luca however, went crashing to the ground. Aelin reached him in a matter of seconds and grasped his collar, keeping him upright as the ice lifted again once. Twice.

They reached the edge of the drop off seconds later and I felt Aelin's relief shudder against mine when the pale stone was once again beneath their feet. The relief broke my concentration for half a second- long enough for the ice to explode behind them and shower all of us in an frigid blast of water. There was the sound of large nostrils huffing in the misty air as greedy talons raked over the thin ice, gouging four deep lines. But Aelin didn't look back as she hauled Luca to the shore, only turning around in time to see the wild red eye and jagged white teeth crawling over the ice before I loosed a breath and the ice melted, plunging the creature back into the icy depths.

There was a moment of silence as Aelin just stared at where the creature had once been before she grabbed Luca and bolted from the cave. Luca's string of curses filled the air as she dragged him into the woods and I was at the mouth of the cave by the time the roar sounded, loud and gut-wrenching enough that it shook the entire forest. Shook the whole damn mountain. I could sense Aelin in front of me but she hadn't stopped even as the ground shook and one thought hit me as I darted into the trees behind her- I was so screwed.

By the time I caught up with her Luca was nowhere to be seen but judging by the amount of noise he was making in the trees behind her Aelin must have already sent him back to Mistward. I was panting from my mad dash out of the cave, ears still ringing after the creatures deafening roar. As soon as the sounds of Luca crashing through the brush faded Aelin whirled to face me, her gaze burning with untapped fury.

The movement of her plunging her sword into the dirt was a flash of gold in the afternoon sun and the following snarled words that curled from her lips rebounded throughout the clearing. _I will kill you._

She lunged at me, her body nothing but a blur but even with her fae form I was faster. I dodged her with ease, the sound of her crashing face-first into a tree causing me to smirk. The scent of her blood crackled in the air reminding me of the taste of it on my tongue, filled with something akin to wildfire. I couldn't help myself from drifting closer, the same tantalizing fire that had made me bite her neck that day in the woods inexplicably pulling me forward until I stood right behind her. She spun around to face me with blood dripping down her face and I couldn't help but bare my teeth at the look burning in her eyes. She surged forward suddenly and I was unable to dodge her as her hands grasped the front of my jacket. A flash of pain followed as her fist connected with my face.

I snarl ripped from me as I slammed her into the dirt. Before I could pin her though I felt her legs wrap around my waist and _shove._ The next thing I knew she was on top of me, her hands digging into my arms and fire crackling in her gaze. Shock momentarily broke through the rage rushing through me and I opened my mouth to say something right when her fist connected with my face.

"If you ever bring someone else into this," she growled, hitting me again on the side of my face. On that damn tattoo. "If you ever endanger _anyone_ else the way you did today-" the blood flowing from her nose splattered onto my face, no doubt mixing with my blood already coating it from her blows as she leaned over me. "I will kill you-" another blow to my jaw and I felt myself go still underneath her. "I will rip out your rutting throat," she snarled, her teeth gleaming and bared. "You understand?"

I turned my head to the side and spit a mouthful of blood onto the grass. I could practically feel the magic trying to break the hold she had on it , thrashing and roaring in the near nonexistent space between us. She shoved back at it, the fire quieting for a moment just as her grip on me loosened. Not waiting for her to recover from the momentary distraction I moved, shoving her upwards and slamming her stunned body back into the dirt. I felt my face twinge in pain from where she had hit me and rage once again flickered to life inside of me. The fire was threatening to burst from her again and I could practically feel my icy winds winding towards it as I leaned closer to her and growled out the words. "I will do whatever I please."

"You will leave other people out of it!" She shrieked, effectively silencing any birds that had dared to return in the wake of the creatures roars. "No one else!" Her words were becoming more panicked than angry, her body thrashing against my hold and as her hands found my wrists I felt a burning heat race up my arms. I almost winced at the molten heat flowing from her but managed to block out the searing pain, tightening my grip on her instead.

"Tell me why, Aelin." I said in the calmest voice I could manage with my barely cooled rage. It was taking every ounce of self restraint for me to resist returning the blows she had dealt me but I could see something beneath the rage burning in her gaze. Something full of such despair and hopelessness I paused just as her nails dug into my arms, bringing another torrent of heat with them.

"Because I am _sick_ of it!" She howled, gasping for air as the rage that had been holding back whatever had been brewing underneath guttered. "I told her I would

not help, so she orchestrated her own death. Because she thought-" a cold, wild laugh ripped from her. "She thought that her death would spur me into action. She thought I could somehow do more than her—that she was worth more dead. And she lied—about everything. She lied to me because I was a coward, and I hate her for it. I hate her for leaving me."

I went still on top of her at the confession, at the pure honesty and despair pouring from her. Any remnants of her rage came crashing down as the words she had just said seemed to finally hit her, her hands finally leaving my wrists. "Please," her eyes were pleading as she gasped out the next few words, "please don't bring anyone else into it. I will do anything you ask of me. But that is my line. Anything but that."

I didn't let any emotion fill my gaze as I loosened my grip on her. Her eyes were locked on the trees, her gaze burning with something other than anger. I pulled back from her, the space between us now a tangible thing. My usually still winds were bucking against my hold, trying to find the fire that had slunk back into its cave.

"How did she die?" I asked.

"She manipulated a mutual acquaintance into thinking he needed to kill her in order to further his agenda. He hired an assassin, made sure I wasn't around, and had her murdered." Her tone was cold and hollow but I could feel the grief writhing behind the word.

I had witnessed worse things over the past few centuries, hell I had *done* worse things. Still, I couldn't help the twinge of empathy I felt. I knew what it was like to fail that gravely, to come home to find your world shattered.

"What happened to the two men?" I asked. A cold, hard question after what she'd just told me. Maybe it made me just as much of a bastard as she thought I was but... I needed to know. Needed to know if whatever I had sensed in her was the same as what teemed under my skin.

"The assassin I hunted down and left in pieces in an alleyway. And the man who hired him..." she trailed off, her previously emotionless eyes haunted. "I gutted him and dumped his body in a sewer."

And I knew then by the look in her eyes that if I wanted to I could break her in that moment. That those were perhaps some of the worse things she had done, things she made not have ever admitted to out loud. So I didn't allow any emotion to seep into my voice as I said a simple, "Good."

She turned to look at me at that, surprise flickering in her eyes before it turned into a look of horror. I realized then what I must look like. My face still throbbing and bleeding from the blows she had dealt me, clothes ripped to shreds and covered in mud. But my arms were where her gaze lingered, at the burns that now covered them in angry red welts. I had to admit they weren't exactly pleasant.

She shot to her feet. "I am... so sorry," she stammered, but I cut off the apology slipping from her lips with a hand.

"You do not apologize for defending the people you care about." I hope she realized that was as much of an apologize as she was going to get from me. She just nodded, something like guilt still lingering in her gaze.

"I'm keeping the sword," she said then, stalking across the clearing to pull it from where she had stabbed it in the dirt. That couldn't have been more than a few minutes ago but it felt like hours since we had stepped into the clearing. Had it really only been this afternoon that I had said goodbye to Gavriel?

"You haven't earned it," I said. And she hadn't, not by my usual standards anyway. Then again, she was anything but _standard_ for gods sakes. "But consider this a favor. Leave it in your rooms while we train."

She looked like she was about to argue but something settled in her gaze and she just nodded. "What if that thing tracks us to the fortress once darkness falls?"

"Even if it does, it can't get past the wards," I said as she raised her brows in question. "The stones around the fortress have a spell woven between them to keep out enemies. Even magic bounces off it."

"Oh," was all she said in response and as we turned to head back to Mistward there was a calm, almost peaceful silence flowing between us. By far the most pleasant we'd ever shared.

"You know," she said as we walked, something like mischief dancing in her tone, "that's twice now you've made a mess of my training with your tasks. I'm fairly sure that makes you the worst instructor I've ever had."

I shot her a glance, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "I'm surprised it took you this long to call attention to it."

She let out a short laugh, for once no anger or malice shadowing the sound and as we broke through the trees it was almost like the torches and candles were welcoming us home.

"I've never seen such a sorry sight." Emrys hissed the words at us the second we stepped into the kitchen. "Blood and dirt and leaves over every inch of you both."

I had to admit the two of us looked slightly worse for wear. Both of our faces coated in blood, covered in mud and leaves from our... disagreement in the woods earlier. It didn't help either that with every passing second the burns on my arms were becoming harder to ignore.

"No better than alley cats, brawling at all hours of the day and night," Emrys growled as he slammed two bowls of stew onto the worktable. "Eat, both of you. And then get cleaned up." I sunk down onto the bench, not hesitating to follow his orders and dig into the stew. "Elentiya, you're off kitchen duty tonight and tomorrow." Aelin opened her mouth as if to object but Emrys just held up a hand. "I don't want you bleeding on everything. You'll be more trouble than you're worth."

Aelin winced, sinking down into the seat beside me, swearing in pain. Swearing at me too. "Clean out your mouth, too, while you're at it," Emrys snapped.

Despite the cracking fire and lulled quiet,l the room still felt tense for some reason. I could feel Malakai's eyes on us from across the room and when I glanced up from my stew I noticed Luca sitting by the hearth just as he made a cutting gesture across his throat. For a second I wondered if he was doing it at me. I was certainly some form of dead if Emrys found out what Luca had been up to today. His eyes were fixed on Aelin though and a glance at her told me it was because she hadn't shifted back yet. If her pointed ears and bared teeth didn't give her away, the fire still flickering in her gaze would. I couldn't really bring myself to care about what their reactions would be though as the tantalizing scent of the stew caused to me pick up my spoon again. Judging by the moment of tension that followed Aelin had given them a look suggesting exactly what she thought the appropriate response was. Apparently, Malakai took the hint to leave well enough alone as moments later Aelin was digging into her soup beside me.

After a few minutes there was a dim flash of light as Aelin shifted back into her human form. For all her bravado I could feel something like apprehension fill the air as Emrys stepped closer but he simply laid down a loaf of bread on the table between us and said, "Makes no difference to me whether your ears are pointy or round, or what your teeth look like. But," I felt his gaze on me as he said the next few words. "I can't deny I'm glad to see you got in a few punches this time."

I snapped my head up to look at him at that but all Emrys did was point his spoon at me. "Don't you think you've had enough of beating each other into a pulp?" Malakai stiffened from across the room but Emrys went on. "What good does it accomplish, other than providing me with a scullery maid whose face scares the wits out of our sentries? You think any of us like to hear you two cursing and screaming every afternoon? The language you use is enough to curdle all the milk in Wendlyn."

I looked down and mumbled an apology into my stew. Something like amusement flickered in Aelin at that and I was about to tell her even her unmarred face would scare the sentries when she rose from her seat and walked over to Emrys, getting down on her knees in front of him. The apology that followed was the most sincere and sorry I had ever heard her. They of course said it was alright, even though something like hurt still lingered in Emrys gaze when he looked at her. In the back of my mind I wondered what exactly had caused her little outburst earlier. For some reason I didn't think it was just what I had said to her last night.

She didn't seem that surprised when Emrys told her that he and the others had known her mother, had known who she was. She did however seem surprised when I settled down next to her at the sink to clean up. We worked in a surprisingly easy silence until- "We had an adventure today."

The words sent a flicker of dread through me. _Shit._ I was so screwed.

"Let me guess," Malakai said, "it had something to do with that roar that sent the livestock into pandemonium."

"What do you know of a creature that dwells in the lake under..." she trailed off, looking at me expectantly.

"Bald Mountain," I finished. "And he can't know that story. No one does."

"I am a Story Keeper," said Emrys, the look in his eyes enough to make me almost get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness like Aelin had. "And that means that the tales I collect might not come from Fae or human mouths, but I hear them anyway. I heard one story, years ago, from a fool who thought he could cross the Cambrian Mountains and enter Maeve's realm without invitation. He was on his way back, barely clinging to life thanks to Maeve's wild wolves in the passes, so we brought him here while we sent for the healers."

"So that's why you wouldn't give him a moment's peace," Malaki murmured and Emrys eyes twinkled as he gave his mate a smile.

"He had a fierce infection, so at the time I thought it might have been a fever dream, but he told me he found a cave at the base of Bald Mountain. He camped there, because it was raining and cold and he planned to be off at first light. Still, he felt like something was watching him from the lake. He drifted off, and awoke only because the ripples were lapping against the shore—ripples from the center of the lake. And just beyond the light of his fire, out in the deep, he spied something swimming. Bigger than a tree or any beast he'd ever seen."

"Oh, it was horrific," piped Luca. _Shit._

"You said you were out with Bas and the other scouts on border patrol today!" Emrys barked, shooting me a look that said I better test my food for poison from now on.

After a few more glowering looks shot between me and Luca Emrys sat back down and went on to explain how the creature was from another world and had become trapped under the mountain by a warrior- the same warrior that had carved its eye out. I almost say anything, almost let the opportunity slip by but the memory of that look in Aelin's eyes as she had laid underneath me in the clearing caused me to shoot a glance in her direction to make sure she was paying attention as I asked, "Who was the warrior who carved out its eye?"

"The fool didn't know, and neither did the beast. But the language it spoke was Fae—an archaic form of the Old Language, almost indecipherable. It could remember the gold ring he bore, but not what he looked like," Emrys replied.

Aelin didn't move from where she stood next to me but I could see her eyes widen in recognition. There, I had done my part. I just hoped she was smart enough to figure it out on her own.

As I reached for my glass of water I couldn't hide my wince that slipped from me when my jacket sleeve rubbed against one of the burns on my arms. With the absence of the rage and then hunger I'd been feeling it was harder to pretend they weren't blistering in pain. The pain was the last thing on my mind though as Emrys turned to face me. "No more adventures," he said, his gaze burning with enough fire to rival Aelin.

I shot Luca who was balking in indignation a glance warning him not to object as I agreed with Emrys.

"And no more brawling," said Emrys, looking from me to Aelin with unnerving expectancy.

I met Aelin's gaze over the table, not allowing any emotion to color my words as I said, "We'll try."

Even Emrys seemed to deem that an acceptable answer.

I was seated at my worktable in front of the fire when the knock sounded at my door later that evening, studying a map of the locations of those bodies and trying to ignore the pain of the burns still roaring along my arms. I should have gone to a healer after we had left the kitchens but all I had really wanted to do was go back to my rooms and forget this entire day had happened. That, and maybe I didn't want Aelin to know she had actually managed to hurt me. I had collapsed onto the bed the moment I entered my rooms but for some reason hadn't been able to will myself into sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw her, eyes blazing as she threw herself at me across the clearing. I could still smell her blood, couldn't stop turning over the words she had spat at me. It had taken more than a few failed attempts to realize I wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight and I'd decided if I was going to be awake I might as well do something useful and hopefully get my mind off what is was insisting on thinking about.

So when the tentative knock sounded outside my door I was less then pleased. "What?" I snapped, not looking up from the map as the door creaked open. She didn't say anything at first and I glanced up at her, eyes flashing in annoyance in retaliation to her quiet stare. Her eyes traveled up my back which I just then realized was shirtless to my face, lingering on my tattoo as something flickered in her eyes I couldn't quite read. She followed it from the side of my face to where it ended at my fingertips, broken only by the manacle like burns she had inflicted earlier. That I had realized would be a slight problem considering I couldn't redo it entirely on my own.

"What do you want?" I asked.

Aelin's eyes didn't leave my body as she tossed something across the room at me. "I thought you might want this," she said, eyes catching mine nervously.

I caught it in one hand. Healing salve. The same one I'd given her after our brawl in the woods. "I deserved it," I said. And I had. Not just for today but for all the other shit I'd pulled in my long, immortal existence- to her included. Honestly, I had been a complete ass to her. Not that I would admit that. Then again, she hadn't been a ray of sunshine either.

"Doesn't mean I can't feel bad," she said. And I realized that was what it was. She felt _guilty._

"Is this a bribe?" I asked, turning the tin over in my fingers. I knew it wasn't but maybe I wanted to hear her say it. Or maybe it was just because I wanted to bring back some of that dimmed fire still lingering behind the pain and guilt she was trying and failing to hide.

"Give it back, if you're going to be a pain in my ass," she grumbled, holding out her hand.

I set the tin down on the table and said, ""You could heal yourself, you know. Heal me, too. Nothing major, but you have that gift."

"It's—it's the drop of water affinity I inherited from Mab's line. My mother-" she choked on the word. "My mother told me that the drop of water in my magic was my salvation—and sense of self-preservation." I nodded in affirmation, waiting to see if she would continue."I wanted to learn to use it like the other healers— long ago, I mean. But I never was allowed to. They said... well, it wouldn't be all that useful, since I didn't have much of it, and Queens don't become healers."

A moment of silence before I said, "Go to bed." I ignored the small part of me that told me to acknowledge what she had just said, what she had just admitted to me. "Since you're banned from the kitchen tomorrow, we're training at dawn."

She turned to leave and maybe it was the look of unconcealed hurt in her eyes or maybe just the fact that letting her walk out the door now felt like something final but I stopped her. "Wait. Shut the door."

She did, leaning back against the doorframe. I didn't look at her, taking a deep breath before I said, "When my mate died, it took me a very long time to come back."

I didn't know why I said it and was about to backtrack by saying whatever heartless thing came into my head when she started to speak. Her voice was quiet as she said, "How long ago?"

"Two hundred three years, twenty-seven days ago," I let slip with quiet ease. Gesturing to my tattoo, I continued. "This tells the story of how it happened. Of the shame I'll carry until my last breath."

Something like understanding flooded from her as she said, "Others come to you to have their own grief and shame tattooed on them."

"Gavriel lost three of his soldiers in an ambush in the southern mountains. They were slaughtered. He survived. For as long as he's been a warrior, he's tattooed himself with the names of those under his command who have fallen. But where the blame lies has little to do with the point of the markings," I told her.

"Were you to blame?" I knew she wasn't talking about Gavriel.

I turned slowly, letting myself meet her gaze for a moment. She was still and calm but something like concern was flirting around her. "Yes. When I was young, I was … ferocious in my efforts to win valor for myself and my bloodline. Wherever Maeve sent me on campaigns, I went. Along the way, I mated a female of our race. Lyria," I paused at that, at her name. I couldn't remember the last time I'd spoken it to someone. "She sold flowers in the market in Doranelle. Maeve disapproved, but when you meet your mate, there is nothing you can do to alter it. She was mine, and no one could tell me otherwise. Mating her cost me Maeve's favor, and I still yearned so badly to prove myself. So when war came calling and Maeve offered me a chance to redeem myself, I took it. Lyria begged me not to go. But I was so arrogant, so misguided, that I left her at our mountain home and went off to war." Stupid. I had been so damn stupid. "I left her alone," I said, finally meeting her gaze. _You just left me downstairs._

I knew she was also remembering the words she had said to me, was realizing why they in particular had caused my control to snap.

Not knowing how to respond to that raw sense of understanding in her gaze I continued. "I was gone for months, winning all that glory I so foolishly sought. And then we got word that our enemies had been secretly trying to gain entrance to Doranelle through the mountain passes." I ran a hand through my hair, the memory of that day flooding back to me. The immediate rush of fear and rage when Gavriel had told me what had happened, of flying the fastest I ever had back home- back to her. "I flew home. As fast as I'd ever flown. When I got there, I found that… found she had been with child." A flash of roaring winds and ice. "They had slaughtered her anyway, and burnt our house to cinders."

Aelin was completely still as I said, "When you lose a mate, you don't..." I shook my head, trying to find the right words to explain to her what that all encompassing loss felt like. What it was like to feel you had lost half of yourself. "I lost all sense of self, of time and place. I hunted them down, all the males who hurt her. I took a long while killing them. She was pregnant—had been pregnant since I'd left her. But I'd been so enamored with my own foolish agenda that I hadn't scented it on her. I left my pregnant mate alone."

There was such quiet in the room even as Aelin said, her voice breaking halfway through, "What did you do after you killed them?"

Years of pain and grief flashed through my head. "For ten years, I did nothing. I vanished. I went mad. Beyond mad. I felt nothing at all. I just... left. I wandered the world, in and out of my forms, hardly marking the seasons, eating only when my hawk told me it needed to feed or it would die. I would have let myself die—except I couldn't bring myself…" I trailed off, pushing the rush of memories away. "I might have stayed that way forever, but Maeve tracked me down. She said it was enough time spent in mourning, and that I was to serve her as prince and commander—to work with a handful of other warriors to protect the realm. It was the first time I had spoken to anyone since that day I found Lyria. The first time I'd heard my name—or remembered it."

"So you went with her?" No judgment in her voice, surprisingly.

"I had nothing. No one. At that point, I hoped serving her might get me killed, and then I could see Lyria again. So when I returned to Doranelle, I wrote the story of my shame on my flesh. And then I bound myself to Maeve with the blood oath, and have served her since."

"How—how did you come back from that kind of loss?" She asked the question with enough intensity I knew it wasn't just for me. It was for her too.

"I didn't. For a long while I couldn't. I think I'm still not back. I might never be." I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this honest, this open with anyone. What I'd just told her- I hadn't even told my cadre everything I had just said.

I waited for her to say something but she just nodded, glancing towards the window. She hadn't gotten to come back either I realized. Whether it was from losing Nehemia or whatever else haunted her that she hadn't yet told me, she was in the same place I was. Trying to crawl out of a pit of grief and darkness so deep you felt you would never leave.

"But maybe," I said so quietly I thought she wouldn't hear me but she turned to look at me anyways. "Maybe we could find the way back together."

She met my gaze and I knew she knew I wouldn't apologize for today, or yesterday, or any of it. And neither would she, I realized. But I also knew she understood then as she looked at me. Understood that in these past few weeks I had been seeing myself in her. Seen a person that was so ravaged by grief and anger and despair that it was eating them up inside and out. And maybe I hadn't been ready to face that, to realize how far I had really fallen.

"I think," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, "I would like that very much."

At that, at the words she spoke and the look in her eyes that was more vulnerable than I had ever seen her look- maybe more vulnerable than she had ever been- I held out my hand. "Together, then."

Her gaze lingered on my hand before rising up to meet mine, her eyes burning with something different than anger or pain or grief. Something molten and raw and so full of understanding I almost pulled my hand back. I didn't though, forcing myself to remain steady as she reached out and grasped my outstretched hand.

"Together," she said, the word a question and an answer. And with that word somewhere in her gaze, in the air teeming between us with crackling fire and crystals of ice, an ember began to glow.

 **Okay, so it turns out I have a better short term memory than I thought I did. This turned out mostly the same as the first time I wrote it. Don't get me wrong I'm still so pissed that happened. Anyways- I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I'm really really proud of the length (8,000 words!). Okay, so that's really long but I was just too excited to post it to split it into two parts. I do have a question- do you guys prefer long chapters (they probably won't be this long again but you never know) or shorter ones? It honestly doesn't really affect how often I update, more so just the length of them. So yeah, let me know. I also just wanted to say how grateful I am for all of you wonderful readers! I'm still not used to the fact that anyone would actually want to read anything I write so thank you for all the love and support! Since I last updated I looked over the traffic graph for this fic (you know- views and stuff) and realized how many people from different countries have read this which is AMAZING! Seriously, that's so cool. There are like 30 countries, some of which I'd never even heard of so that made me super happy. I also want to thank everyone who leaves reviews on this story- you make me want to keep writing. This is so long omg I doubt anyone is still reading this but I'll just say it again- thank you! Please please please review I want to know what you guys thought of this chapter cause I'm pretty proud of it.**

 **Jordan**

 **ps. I realized I've been spelling demi-Fae wrong this entire time please forgive me lol. Also, I totally forgot why Rowan gave Aelin the salve and was too lazy to go back and look so if it's for something else oops.**


	13. Chapter 13

_I forced myself to remain steady as she reached out and grasped my outstretched hand. "Together," she said, the word a question and an answer. And with it somewhere in her gaze, in the air teeming between us with crackling fire and crystals of ice, an ember began to glow._

 **All rights go to the incredible Sarah J. Mass. I own nothing but my own interpretation of this beautiful story. Hope you enjoy :)**

 **Rowan's POV:**

The morning of Beltane found Aelin and I standing on a hill on the edge of Mistward, preparations for the evening festivities already underway in the valley below. A massive pile of wood had been set aside for the bonfire and the tables encircling the field would soon be laden with the food Emrys had so painstakingly prepared.

The past few weeks had been quiet and uneventful, so much so that I found myself slipping into something resembling a routine. There had been no more bodies found, no sign of the creature that had ended the lives of those Fae. And despite spending my mornings and evenings pursuing every lead I could find I was beginning to wonder if it was a lost cause.

At least my afternoons had been producing slightly better results. The hours spent training with Aelin had become a tentative reprieve from the frustrating mornings and evenings spent leaning over my worktable, studying the same map over and over again as if the answer lay somewhere between the pins marking the locations of the drained corpses. That being said, those afternoons also brought the addition of a certain smart-mouthed assassin.

Aelin and I had spent the past two weeks going from ruin to ruin as she continued to try and master the fire roiling in her veins. It turned out our little tryst into that cave in the mountains, while perhaps not being my _best_ idea, had paid off. Even though she still struggled to control certain aspects of her magic, Aelin had drastically improved. On the downside of things with the increased use of her magic (despite being seemingly impossible) came an increase in her appetite. Which was why I found myself lugging more than enough food for two people through the ruins every day.

Ever since that night in my rooms there had been a tentative peace between us during our training sessions, leading to the conversations that had become almost normal in the past week. They mostly involved me speaking as I told her of the campaigns and journeys I'd been on over the centuries and the battles I'd fought in . She listened with an unusually quiet understanding, a surprisingly welcome companion to the grief and rage that stirred in me as I recalled memories I had tried my best to bury. But I had realized it helped. Talking about it. Like with every word I spoke the weight in my chest got a little lighter. There had been a different kind of anger boiling beneath Aelin's skin though lately. An anger that seemed to grow, not lessen with every story I shared. Some small, untarnished part of me had almost wondered if it was on my behalf.

We still spent the evenings after dinner in the dining hall listening to Emrys stories, Aelin requesting to hear ones about Maeve every night now. I honestly didn't know what her intent was behind it. Whatever it was, I didn't see any harm in her learning about Maeve's history. It wasn't like the stories Emrys told were secrets and besides, if Aelin was actually going to work with Maeve she should at least know what she was getting herself into. That was, if whatever the hell Maeve wanted to do with Aelin ever actually happened. It was already Beltane, and despite mastering shifting she was nowhere near ready to go to Doranelle.

Lately I'd been feeling more and more on edge. With the constant threat of that wretched beast hanging over my head my instincts have been a little... off lately. It didn't help that Beltane had brought more and more demi-Fae to Mistward. The scent of rage and grief that had clung to Aelin when she had arrived had made most of the males steer clear of her but the newcomers didn't seem quite so repelled by it. Or maybe it was the fact that lately that scent was becoming harder for to detect.

The other day a demi-Fae male had passed us in the hallway on our way back from training and while one look at me had assured he kept his distance the appreciative glance he had beheld Aelin with hadn't escaped my notice. It had taken more control than I cared to admit not to growl at him.

I looked over at Aelin where she stood at my side, munching on an apple and studying the cheerful clamoring below us with an expression that was almost wistful. Her long blonde locks were loose and practically glowing in the the morning sunlight and the past month of training had left her lean and muscled. She wasn't unattractive in the grand scheme of things. Not that I thought of her that way. Or that she felt anything of the like towards me. As if sending the treacherous turn my thoughts had taken Aelin looked up at me and raised a brow. I didn't say anything though and she just gave me a long look before shaking her head, looking away from me and chucking her finished apple core across the field. "I assume you brought me here so I could practice?"

 _Yes, and because I'm done waiting for you to master skills you should have been acing since you were five._ I couldn't really blame her though. Practicing magic wasn't exactly an option in Adarlan. Or Terrasan. I looked down at the three unlit piles of wood below us. "Ignite them, and keep the fires controlled and even all night."

"All three." Not a question, but there was enough hesitation in her voice that I smiled.

"Keep the end ones low for the jumpers. The middle one should be scorching the clouds."

The fear I had known was coming began to slowly creep up on her and when she spoke there was a note of warning with her words. "This could easily turn lethal."

"I'll be here," I said with enough arrogance in my voice to make her bristle. I lifted my hand and played with the wind currents surrounding her. Even when she wasn't actively using it that fire still tugged at my powers. Little tendrils of smoke and sizzling embers coiling around my icy winds as if to say _play with us._

"And if I somehow still manage to turn someone into a living torch?"

"Then it's a good thing the healers are also here to celebrate," I said, a flicker of malice to my words. This was going to be fun, watching her squirm.

Aelin glared at me, her attempt at bravado lost as it was immediately followed by her rolling her shoulders to try and loose some of the tension I could sense rising in her. "When do you want to start?"

"Now."

 **Okay don't kill me! I know this chapter is super short for how long it's been since the last update but I have my reasons. Sorry I was gone for a bit by the way, it's the end of the school year for me so everything's getting pretty busy. Plus, Klaroline FanFiction kind of took over my life. Anyway, I realize this chapter is super short but that's because I honestly didn't realize that this was the chapter where Aelin has her burnout. For those of you that don't know that was the part that inspired me to write this FanFiction in the first place so I want to make sure it's absolutely perfect! This is basically just a little teaser for the next chapter which should be up within the next few days. I have it mostly written, but I wanted to update this sooner rather than later. Also thank you for all your lovely reviews. They make my day! I love you all so much, next chapters gonna be funnnnnnn.**

- **Jordan**


	14. Chapter 14

_Aelin glared at me, her attempt at bravado lost as it was immediately followed by her rolling her shoulders to try and loose some of the tension I could sense rising in her. "When do you want to start?" "Now."_

 **All rights go to the incredible Sarah J. Mass. I own nothing but my own interpretation of this beautiful story. Hope you enjoy :)**

 **Rowan's POV:**

As the sun set the field below became crowded with revelers who were completely oblivious as to what, or in this case who, kept the fires they danced around burning. Aelin stood by my side, her magic radiating heat into the cool night air. Musicians lined the edges of the forest and the beautiful, ancient tunes they spun reached us in streams of sound even with the noise from the crowd below. Aelin's flames moved with the notes in a writhing, blazing dance that filled the air with crackling energy. Her magic didn't just manifest into blue wildfire anymore like it had that day with the skin walkers. It was a living medley of yellow and orange and that blinding sapphire blue that lit the fires this evening. No one had noticed us where we stood on the hill, the firelight barely reaching us. As far as who controlled the fires the demi-Fae didn't seem to care, though a few marveled at how the flames did not consume the wood supposedly fueling them.

Marveling at the flames that were fueled instead by the woman standing beside me, the firelight bathing her in tones of orange and yellow. The hours spent tending the fires had left her coated in a layer of sweat, the surrounding air unnaturally warm. I could tell she was tiring, the amount of focus and energy it was requiring to keep the fires burning beginning to take its toll on her. The hesitation that had been tainting her magic as she lit the fires earlier had mostly disappeared, though I still felt her fear spike every time someone jumped over one of the two smaller, low burning fires.

I hadn't moved from her side as the sky had darkened, its shadows breaking up and contrasting with the firelight illuminating the dancers below us. The quiet commands I had been murmuring to her for the past hour or so, urging her to keep the fires under control coupled with her increasing exhaustion had caused more than a few glares to be sent my way and I was sure if she wasn't so focused on keeping those fires under control I would already have been tackled into the dirt.

"Easy," I murmured, the flames burning a little brighter as Aelin shifted slightly to try and relieve her muscles from the tension no doubt gripping them after standing so still these past few hours.

"I know,"she hissed back, her eyes tracking a young demi-Fae male as he leapt over the roaring flames. She was staring at the festivities with an air of longing: specifically at the tables still bursting with the feast Emrys had prepared. I almost laughed. Of course she was thinking about the food. "When can I stop?" She asked, the flames twisting with her as she shifted again.

"When I say so," I drawled, already preparing to hide my grin at her predictable indignation at my response. But no matter how annoyed she got with me I knew she wouldn't stop fueling the fires until I said so, wouldn't risk losing control of her magic and potentially endangering the joyous revelers below.

"I'm sweating to death, I'm starving, and I want a break," was her only response, equal parts exhaustion and exasperation coating her words. _That makes two of us._

Even with the ice and wind in my blood I was sweating beneath my leathers and had already denied the advances of more than a couple females who had coyly tried to coax me further into the firelight, having no interest in what they no doubt thought would be a fun evening.

"Resorting to whining?" I said, even as I sent a cooling breeze in her direction. When it hit her she closed her eyes, tilting her head back and letting out a moan at the cool air. The image shot a bolt of heat through me that was separate from the fires warmth. Thoughts of Aelin moaning for an entirely different reason flashed through my head, her mouth open as her neck arched back against my- I cut the thought off before it could finish forming. "Just a little while longer," I said tightly, forcing all thoughts of Aelin from my brain. _What the hell was wrong with me?_

Aelin looked like she might collapse from relief right then and there but opened her eyes a moment later, turning back to stare at the flames. The demi-Fae were dancing closer and closer to the fires, baited by the rising tempo of the music. After a moment even Aelin began to move slightly, her foot tapping along to the joyful tune the musicians had started. As if in response her flames began to writhe and dance, ribbons of blue wrapping around the normal tones of yellow and orange.

"Easy," I murmured. She didn't say anything, didn't even look in my direction. Another day, another lesson in control came to mind and I said with a note of surprise, "Music. That day on the ice, you were humming." I sent another cool breeze along the curve of her neck as the temperature of the air rose suddenly. "Let the music steady you."

She didn't give any sign that she had heard me, her eyes locked on the flames in an almost trance like way. The fires rose higher. "Easy," I said to her again, putting more of a warning in my tone than I had the first time.

Aelin didn't move. Her eyes were staring unblinkingly at the flames and she might as well have been a statue for how still she was standing. "Steady," I said to her, fighting to keep my tone even. Every inch of her seemed to hum with power, the energy in the air cracking like whips. No one was jumping over the fires anymore. _This is too much,_ I realized. She needed to stop. This could go very wrong, very fast if she didn't get herself under control soon.

"That's enough for now," I said, reaching out to grab her arm. The moment my hand met her skin a burning heat raced up my arm and I hissed, yanking my hand back. "That is _enough_ ," I growled.

She turned to face me far too slowly. Her eyes were empty except for the fire now raging in them, any trace of emotion replaced by the deadly, molten heat that now burned freely in her gaze. Aelin turned back to the flames without a second glance. Something tightened in my gut at that. There had always been fire in her gaze. Even in Wendlyn when it was nothing but a few dying coals in a blackened hearth I had been able to sense it roiling underneath her skin, ready and waiting to be unleashed. That had been my goal these past few weeks. To have her just _let go_. But not like this. She needed to learn to control her magic, not the other way around.

"Look at me," I said to her in one last attempt to snap her out of the thrall the music and flames had put on her. " _Look at me,_ " the words were barely more than a growl. She didn't.

 _Shit._ This was bad. If she didn't get her magic under control soon it could burn right through her. "Let the fires burn on their own." The words were an order, filled with primal dominance and raw command. Then slowly, so damn slowly she turned to look at me. Pain laced her features and I felt my nostrils flare. "Aelin, stop right now," I said, fighting to keep the fear from my voice.

She opened her mouth as if to say something but no sound came out, the magic raging through her slowly taking control. The demi-Fae below us hadn't stopped their dancing, oblivious to the internal battle happening only a few feet from them. "Let go," I hissed, fear and dread finally escaping into my voice. "If you don't let go, you are going to burn out completely."

Pain and terror coated her features as she looked at me but there was some other emotion beneath them. Relief. Relief that this was as far as her powers went.

The words I said next were accompanied by a low, vicious snarl. "You are on the verge of roasting yourself from the inside out."

Those words, the urgency in my tone finally managed to snap her out of the trance the music had put her under and the flames in her eyes guttered. As the reality and pain of the situation finally hit her she blinked once, as if trying to get sand out of her eyes, before she crashed to the ground. And as whatever hold the music had on her broke, so did Aelin's control. The entire field was momentarily flooded in a bright, blinding light as the fires she had been controlling suddenly surged. Shouts rose up from the revelers below as they jumped back from the temperamental flames. Even that damn music faltered.

I only glanced at the crowd below long enough to make sure no one had been injured by the sudden surge of fire before I crouched down next to Aelin where she lay in the grass. I didn't dare touch her, not when the flames were still threatening to escape her. Every place her hands touched the grass it hissed, smoke curling out from underneath her in wispy trails of ash. She let out a groan, the pain I knew must be racing through her keeping her from even trying to rein in her magic. I knew what I had to do, even as remorse was already coursing through me.

"I'm sorry," I said to her, the words hissed out between clenched teeth and followed by a stream of swearing as I prepared to yank air from her lungs.

My magic surged forward, stealing the air from Aelin's lungs in one smooth sweep as cool tendrils of ice easily untangled the mess that Aelin's magic has become. Aelin stayed lying on the ground, eyes screwed shut and hands clenched in the grass as she grappled for air. I was done within seconds, my magic forcing hers to heel with unwavering force. I held my grip for a second longer to make sure the fire was all the way out before letting the air rush back into her lungs.

Then she was gasping, her body arching off the ground at the sudden shock of being able to breathe again. Sometime in the last few seconds the music had started up again and there were no more sounds of distress from the crowd below as the fires returned to their natural state, smoke curling up into the night sky as the flames began to burn away at the wood beneath them. I leaned over Aelin who despite my whispered commands to do so was still struggling to breath as she writhed in the burnt grass.

Even though I had managed to snap the tethers to her magic she was still burning. Not physically as she had been before, but from within. She had been too close to burning out, had pushed herself too far over that invisible boundary for her body to go back to normal on its own. I knew if I didn't get her help the fire would burn right through her.

I forced myself from her side just as a tearless, panicked sob escaped her and rushed down into the crowd below with supernatural speed. It took me only a few seconds to find two healers, both of them looking at up at me from where they had been curled up together amidst a crowd of revelers. The look in my eyes told them everything they needed to know and seconds later I was leading them up the hill to Aelin.

When I reached her she was still on the ground, her whole body trembling with noiseless, panicked sobs as she battled for air. One of the females looked Aelin over, her gaze hardening as she turned to me. "Can you stand to carry her?" It was more of a command then as questions as she became not one of ghe demi-Fae speaking to a centuries old Fae warrior but a healer giving orders. "There aren't any water-wielders here and we need to get her into cold water. _Now._ "

I leaned down, pulling Aelin into my arm before she could finish her sentence. I couldn't help the hiss that escaped me as a burning heat immediately raced up my arms and along my torso, the heat radiating off of Aelin's skin as the magic tried to burn itself out of her making my skin sizzle. The healers were already gone when I looked up and with a grunt I pulled Aelin tighter against my chest, ignoring the pain as I sped off into the woods. With every step I took through the trees Aelin's body bounced against my chest and I could practically feel the pain pounding through her. Even with the icy winds I pressed against her in an attempt to cool her off she was still burning.

Burning, and getting weaker. Her breathes were nothing more than gasps and every time her hands tried to cling tighter to me her grip immediately slackened again after a few moments. By the time we reached the fortress I was panting but I didn't dare slow my pace as I sprinted inside and down the hallway leading to the bathing rooms. Two more flights of stairs and then we were inside the candle lit room, Aelin lying far too still in my arms. I was barely in the door when one of the healers spoke. "Get her into the water," she said, gesturing to the already drawn bath.

I surged forward, lowering Aelin into the stone tub. The water was colder than ice but as soon as Aelin's body hit the surface there was a sharp sizzle and steam filled the air. _Shit._ "Freeze it, Prince," said the second healer. "Now."

I sent my magic through the water in an icy blast, instantly freezing it. There was a moment of stillness before the crackle of Aelin's magic filled the air, the bath water instantly melting. "Get her out!" The first healer called over my shoulder as the other began to fill another one of the sunken basins. My hands were on her in an instant, pulling her out of the now boiling water. Gods, she had almost boiled _herself_.

Aelin was out of the water for barely a moment, the heat still coming off of her causing the burns now lacing my arms to protest my tight grip on her. I didn't even wince, shoving her into the bath the healers had drawn and instantly freezing the water. The heat radiating off of Aelin melted it within seconds but I forced my magic to stay locked against hers as the bath water continued to melt and freeze. Even with the cooling water Aelin was still burning, her breathing harsh and gasping. I knelt down by the head of the tub. "Breathe," I said from my place at the head of the tub. "Let it go- let it get out of you."

Steam once again filled the room as the water sizzled but Aelin took a breath. One shaky, gasping breath but a breath none the less. Relief coursed through me. "Good," I panted, the water freezing and melting again. I could feel the fear running through Aelin as she fought for air, her magic trying to claw its way back into control. Then, her entire body drenched in sweat, pain still contorting her features, Aelin took another shaky breath.

I stayed kneeling by her head while she laid in the water for gods know how long, continuing to freeze the water every time she melted it. Even with her not consciously aiding it her magic was powerful enough to equal mine, each gust of ice and frost I sent her way met with a spitfire of flames and embers. It was growing weaker though. Every strike of ice chipped away at her flames a little bit more, our powers both battling for control. But I didn't let my magic yield, didn't let that fire move it one gods damned inch. After what felt like hours the bath water didn't go hot again, the magic previously locked against mine finally retracting it's claws. I felt relief flood me at that one small mercy.

"We need to get those clothes off of her," said one of the females from behind me. I started, realizing I had forgotten that they were even in the room. Rising to my feet I took a step back, tracking every single one of their movements as they eased Aelin's head up off of the edge of the bath and quickly stripped her of her clothes. Aelin was completely still as they worked, laying in the now hopefully cold bath water with her eyes closed.

I stepped forward when they were done, ignoring the pain of my leathers rubbing against the burns she had given me as I once again knelt by her head. I sat there for a few minutes, the only sounds filling the room the lapping of water against the side of the tub and the quiet voices of the healers. And Aelin's breathing. Finally settled, quiet and steady in the still humid bathroom air. After biting back the words for as long as I could, wanting to give her a few moments of peace II️ said, "Just answer yes or no. That's all you have to do."

There was a moment of silence and then Aelin nodded ever so slightly, wincing in pain as her muscles protested. "Are you in danger of flaring up again?" I asked her, knowing the answer but still needing to hear her say it. Her breathing was more or less back to normal and that raw, carnal power of hers no longer filled the air but I had to make sure.

"No," Aelin whispered. The word was hoarse and coated in heat but I had never been so damn happy to hear her voice.

Despite the relief that flowed through me at that I forced myself to slip into a mindset I was familiar with, one of a commander assessing his soldiers condition."Are you in pain?"

"Yes." The response was accompanied by a hiss of steam.

The healers voice rang throughout the room, clear and soothing as she told me to keep Aelin cool while they prepared a tonic. The second female placed a bucket of cold water next to me, inclining her head at my nod of thanks. There was the sound of bare feet against stone floors and then the door to the bathing rooms closed with a click, leaving Aelin and I alone.

Despite her magic having finally settled, an unnatural heat still radiated off Aelin and she let out a sigh as the ice cold cloth I had dipped in the bucket of water met her forehead. I soaked another cloth in the water, reaching over her slightly to allow the icy coolness to drip into her hair. "The burnout," I said quietly, "you should have told me you were at your limit."

She didn't say anything and for a moment I wondered if she thought I was scolding her. I wasn't, not really. Or maybe I was. She _deserved_ to be scolded for being such a godsdamned idiot. If she had stayed under her magics thrall just a few moments longer- or if she had been with anyone less powerful than me- the fire would have burned her into nothing. I had seen it happen before. Seen people use too much magic too fast and before they even thought to stop it it had already consumed them. But wasn't mad at her- not even a little bit, for some reason.

It was then she turned to look at me, her eyes tired with not even a flicker of flame in them. Her blonde hair was plastered across her forehead, wet from the water and the sweat still coating her brow. I squeezed the wash cloth again, Aelin letting out another sigh at the relief it brought her.

Confident that she was ready to listen to what I needed to tell her I began to speak. "If you'd gone on any longer, the burnout would have destroyed you. You must learn to recognize the signs—and how to pull back before it's too late." I needed her to understand, needed to know she wouldn't let it happen again. "It will rip you apart inside. Make this..." I trailed off for a moment, images of Fae and demi-Fae alike who had failed to listen to the warning signs just like she had with far less favorable results filling my mind. Shaking the thoughts from my head I continued. "Make this look like nothing. You don't touch your magic until you've rested for a while. Understand?"

She tilted her head up, wordlessly asking for more cold water but I didn't wring the cloth out until she nodded her head in agreement. Every muscle in my body loosened at that, as if they had been waiting for some undetermined signal.

I stayed by her side for a few more minutes, cooling off her still too warm form with the water and towel. _Where was that tonic?_ It was harder than it should have been to move from her side. Standing up, I draped the drenched cloth over the side of the bucket. "I'm going to check on the tonic. I'll be back soon." I waited until she had nodded to show she had heard me before I left. Even then I was reluctant to leave her.

 _Gods, what was wrong with me?_ I thought we I opened the door and slipped out into the hallway. I shouldn't be this worried over some demi-Fae princess from Adarlan. That's what I was I realized, why the pit in my stomach felt foreign and yet so familiar. I was _worried_ for gods sakes.

It took only a few minutes for the healers to bandage the burns on my arms and finish preparing the tonic. I thanked them for their hard work and they said they would be back in a few minutes to check on Aelin. Even now there was that instinctual, primal need to protect coursing through my veins and I felt myself relax as I headed back down the hallway to the bathing rooms, tonic in hand. I could hear Aelin's breathing through the door, the steady and even pace of it easing the strange tightness in my chest.

The first thing I saw when I opened the door was Aelin. She wasn't lying on her back in the tub as I had left her but was sitting up, her arms wrapped around her curled up form and her head resting on her knees. She didn't move as I entered didn't look up at me as I crossed the room in a few steps and saw- saw her back.

Her back. Gods. I froze mid-step, my breath catching in my throat as I glimpsed the glistening expanse of ruined flesh. Ruined by the scars that covered it in raised, raw lines. Scars from... from being whipped. Whipped not once or twice but dozens of times on multiple occasions. Scars that had not only not been allowed to heal properly, but had been actively treated to leave as gruesome marks as possible.

It was only then Aelin turned to face me, her eyes widening slightly as she realized what I was staring at.

It was an effort to get my mouth to work. "Who did that to you?"

Her tired gaze locked on me almost made me stop breathing as she said, "A lot of people. I spent some time in the Salt Mines of Endovier."

Endovier. Gods. "How long?" I didn't want to know I _needed_ to know. There was a moment of complete silence where I thought she wasn't going to answer me. That she was going to send me away, tell me it was none of my gods damned business. Not that it was any of my business. Or that I even deserved to know.

"A year. I was there a year before... it's a long story." The way she spoke the words was so quiet, so sad and defeated and different from everything else she had said since I met her. Her eyes then went to my chest, her gaze softening slightly as she noticed the bandages now covering it. I didn't care. Not one bit. Not as rage, ice cold and lethal took hold of me.

A year. She had been in Endovier for a whole _year_. The longest I had ever heard someone survive in that place was three months. Most didn't last a week. The conditions in those camps were like no where else on the continent. She was nineteen now. She must have been what- seventeen? Not even? When she had been forced to experience things that were designed to break even the toughest souls. What had she done to deserve- no. She didn't deserve that, no one did. And whoever had thought she did I would have no problem ending, would happily tear them apart. Slowly

"You were a slave." My tone was clipped and hard, none of the emotions currently tearing into me portrayed in my gaze as I said the words, as I asked her to confirm what I already knew.

She gave me a slow nod, her eyes filled with so much emotion I wanted to look away. I couldn't though, my eyes locked on her tired face. I opened my mouth to say something, to tell her I didn't care. Or that I did care. Maybe too much. For a moment I wished I had never met her, never been sent by Maeve to find her if only to avoid the strength of the emotions currently coursing through me.

Every cruel, heartless thing I'd said to her, thought about her, suddenly filled my head. She had been little more than a child when she had been forced into slavery, when men three times her size had forced her down on her knees and-

 _Why don't I give you the lashing you deserve?_

The words hit me like a blow to the head, washing away the rage that had been coursing through me and leaving nothing but silence. Silence- and shame. Silence that echoed through me as I turned away without even looking at Aelin, not wanting to see the disgust that was no doubt in her gaze and shut the door behind me.

 **Wooooooooooo!! You have no idea how happy I am that this chapter is finished! Warning- slightly emotional monologue coming.**

 **When I started writing this fic it was because I couldn't find any FanFiction's from Rowan's POV. The scene that really inspired me to write this was Aelin's burn out, and I went into this chapter really hoping I would be able to do it justice. Obviously this isn't anywhere near Sarah's writing but I am actually really proud of the result. I really tried to make this chapter extra good and unique for you guys so I hope that shows. All your support throughout this whole experience has been so incredibly amazing so thank you thank you thank you from the bottom of my heart.**

 **Some things I learned while writing this chapter:**

 **\- You can only describe fire, flames, crowds of revelers, sweat, and heat so many different ways before you go crazy**

 **\- I really love making Rowan swear**

 **\- I found a typo in hof while writing this but it could just be that I was delirious by that point and hallucinated it (more likely let's be real)**

 **\- I want Rowan to be my husband (already knew this let's be real)**

 **\- I am losing my mind :)**

 **Question: What is your favorite chapter/ scene I've written?**

 **Okay that's all folks! Hope you enjoyed! New chapter coming soon I promise- tune in next time for some good old fashioned Aelin-not-sleeping-in-a-cot-action. Love you guys!**

 **\- Jordan**

 **p.s. reuploaded the previous chapter and a bunch of the ones in the beginning of this story. go read them they're better now lol.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello all you lovely readers! As usual, I have to give the customary apology for being a terrible writer who never updates. I honestly didn't think it would take me this long but right after I posted the last chapter finals hit me like truck. Trust me, it's a miracle I'm still alive. I was super busy the first few weeks of my summer vacation and one of my best friends is moving away so I spent a lot of time with her. Then I actually was traveling in Italy for a few weeks which was AMAZING but did not have the best internet availability. The** **rest is honestly just lack of motivation and laziness. So there's my not so quick and not so great explanation of why I've been gone for so long. Now on to what you actually care about: this story. Or at least I hope you still do? Right? Let's say yes for my sanity. This chapter technically starts in the middle of chapter 42 of HOF but I recommend you read the actual book if you want the canon (and much better) version of Rowan's POV. Also, for some reason my account is not letting me respond to all of your lovely reviews by email so I wrote out responses to everyone that left a review on the last chapter at the bottom. They're what keep my going, so thank you.**

 **All rights go to the incredible Sarah J. Mass. I own nothing but my own interpretation of this beautiful story. Hope you enjoy :)**

 _I turned away without even looking back at Aelin, not wanting to see the disgust that was no doubt in her gaze, and shut the door behind me._

 **Rowan's POV:**

I had spent the last three hours flying above the trees surrounding Mistward, consumed by the image of Aelin's marred back that had burned itself into my brain. The slab of ruined flesh, illuminated by candlelight and glistening with water was all I had been able to see as I flew towards the mountains.

I had seen far worse injuries over the centuries, had bestowed them on friends and enemies alike without thinking twice about it, and the sight of Aelin's marred back had jarred me far more than it should have. Every part of me had gone quiet with lethal rage and self loathing, the desire to rip whoever had inflicted those wounds apart with my bare hands battling the memories of every wretched thing I had said to her.

I had barely made it out of the baths before I shifted, needing to escape into the familiar world of wings and wind. It hadn't cleared my head like it usually did. The roaring winds were nothing compared to the battle raging in my own mind, my thoughts beating against the unshakable numbness and anger engulfing me. Maeve had lied to me, or at least not told me the whole truth about Aelin. If I had known...

I didn't know what I would have done differently. Perhaps I would have gone easy on her out of pity, though I doubted Aelin would have appreciated it. Maeve likely hadn't told me for that exact reason, but it didn't matter. Whatever Maeve's reasons had been for not telling me were, they wouldn't excuse what I'd done and said to Aelin. I had threatened to _whip_ her for gods sake and then when she'd lost it, when she had stormed off, I had dismissed it as an overreaction. In all my arrogance I had been determined to think of her as nothing more than a temperamental child, had met any hint of civility she sent my way with biting words and punches. And as for the other things I had said...

 _You're worthless._

 _Spineless and pathetic._

 _You are nothing to me, and I do not care._

 _You would probably have been more useful to the world if you'd actually died ten years ago._

The words pounded against me as I flew. Every foul, loathsome thing I had said to her tearing into me like the whips had once torn into Aelin's flesh. I deserved all the curses and names she had spat at me over these past few weeks, as well as the pain from the burns she'd given me biting into my skin. Emry's words joined Aelin's then, a perfect medley of guilt.

 _You shove her down when she so desperately needs someone to help her back up._

If I hadn't been so damn proud, perhaps I would have listened. If I had, maybe Aelin would have trusted me enough to tell me. That was what bothered me most, I realized. Not Maeve's hidden lies or even what had happened to Aelin, though the thought of her marred flesh still sent a bolt of rage rushing through me. What bothered me the most was that Aelin hadn't trusted me, hadn't wanted me to know.

The thought of Aelin, alone and defenseless after her near burnout, caused a different kind of rage. One born from a primal need to protect and defend. I was usually better at controlling the possessive, territorial tendencies that came with being a Fae male but the thought of her sent me flying back to Mistward.

It didn't take me long to find her. I opened the window to her rooms with a gust of air, shifting and landing without making a sound. Aelin was lying on the bed with her back to me, shivering beneath the covers. I would have been able to hear the sound of her teeth chattering even without my Fae senses. Before she could even roll over I leaned down and pulled her into my arms, blankets and all. Her hair, still damp from the baths, brushed against my neck as her head fell onto my shoulder. She was trembling, the blankets she had wrapped herself in doing little to battle the chills racking her body.

I expected her to say something, to growl at me to put her down like she usually would have. But she didn't do anything but shiver, and another wave of guilt hit me.

I shouldn't have left. I had let my anger, both at myself and at those who had harmed her, take control of me. If she hadn't wanted to tell me about her past it was likely because she feared this exact reaction. I'd just left her there, had walked out the door without speaking a word.

It took me less than a minute to carry her up the two flights of stairs to my rooms. The warmth that hit me as I entered was an unpleasant reminder of how cold Aelin's were in comparison. I laid Aelin down on the bed and pulled the blankets over her, grabbing a quilt from the chair by the fire and draping it over her in an attempt to stop her from shivering. I was careful to keep my movements gentle, knowing how sensitive her body would be after her burnout. I remembered the pain all too well. Her's involved a lot more heat than ice, but it always left the same aching muscles and overwhelming exhaustion.

I stood there for a moment, looking down at Aelin's sleeping form. Lying there with the blankets pulled up to her chin, her drying hair glowing in the firelight, she looked more relaxed than I had ever seen her. Younger. With all her smirking and smart-ass comments, it was hard to remember that she was barely more than a child.

I eased myself down on to the other side of bed, careful to shift far enough away that we wouldn't touch. The urge to look her over and make sure she was alright was a constant itch, born from instincts I was suddenly struggling to keep under control. There were about a dozen things I wanted to say to her but when I opened my mouth all that came out was, "You're staying with me from now on."

She turned to face me, her gaze somehow managing to burn even without its usual fire. She didn't say anything, just blinked at me. Silent and questioning all at once.

"The bed is for tonight. Tomorrow, you'll get a cot. You'll clean up after yourself or you'll be back in that room."

Stupid, useless words. _Say something, you bastard._

Aelin didn't say anything for a long moment, firelight flickering in her eyes. I hadn't noticed until now, but their blue was ringed with gold.

"Very well." Aelin's voice was soft and quiet when she finally spoke, but it still sent a shiver down my spine. Another longer moment of silence followed as I stared at the waning flames in the fireplace. Aelin nestled further into the covers. When she spoke again, her voice was muffled by the thick quilt. "I don't want your pity."

The words didn't surprise me. "This is not pity. Maeve decided not to tell me what happened to you. You have to know that I- I wasn't aware you had-" The words came out far more stumbling than I would have liked, the cold indifference I usually made sure to coat them in burned away by Aelin's steady, quiet gaze. I found myself wishing she would shout, tear into me, confirm all the loathsome thoughts running through my head. Instead, there was a soft pressure on my arm. Aelin had reached across the bed, her hand now grasping onto my arm. Her skin was soft against mine, it's warmth releasing a tension I hadn't realized I'd been holding onto. I looked over at Aelin, the pure understanding and lack of contempt in her gaze freezing me in place.

"I knew. At first, I was afraid you'd mock me if I told you, and I would kill you for it. Then I didn't want you to pity me. And more than any of that, I didn't want you to think it was ever an excuse." Her hand remained a steady weight on mine as she spoke, and I could tell it was for her as much as it was for me.

"Like a good soldier," I said, finally meeting her gaze. She glanced down at the blankets for a moment, eyes burning. The molten heat in her gaze when she looked back at me was almost enough to make me leave it there for the evening, but I needed to know. Needed to hear everything, from her.

I took a deep breath, lacing my fingers through hers before I spoke. I was more relieved than I should have been when she squeezed back. "Tell me how you were sent there- and how you got out."

I thought she would refuse, would tell me that it was none of my business. As usual, she surprised me. Aelin's eyes met mine, the trust in them perfectly damning as she told me her story. Her tired gaze sparked slightly when she spoke of the years spent in Rifthold, of riding Asterion horses through the desert and dancing till dawn with friends and enemies alike, then darkened again as she told me how she had lost the first man she had ever loved in a wretched, twisted scheme laid out by her own master.

I tightened my grip on her hand when she arrived at the first time she had been whipped in Endovier. A flicker of pride slipped through my icy rage when she told me she'd made sure to spit blood in the Chief Overseers face after, but it was doused just as quickly as she described the year that had followed. The darkness of the cells they used to try and break her, how she still had nightmares because of it. The lines of slaves that never seemed to end. The grueling work and constant song of screaming. How she'd snapped on the anniversary of her parents deaths, had stopped caring whether she lived or died as she sprinted to an unattainable freedom. I didn't let go of her hand as she spoke, the warmth of her grip somehow keeping the anger brewing beneath my skin at bay.

Her entire body seemed to grow heavy when she arrived at the evening of her release, taken by the Captain of the Royal Guard to be a champion for a tyrants son. Every piece of her life she shared with me made her sink further into exhaustion, but it also seemed to take a weight off her shoulders. I knew the feeling. I had felt it when I had shared stories of my past with her in those ruins. I had almost forgotten how good it felt to talk to someone without having to guard my words.

I could see sleep tugging at Aelin, a yawn escaping her as she nestled further down into the covers. The room was strangely quiet without her voice filling it, the fire crackling in the silence. Aelin's breathing slowed, it's steady pace and the pleasant warmth of the flames pulling me towards sleep. The last thing I felt before I closed my eyes was the now familiar weight of Aelin's hand in mine, resting against my chest as I drifted off into sleep.

I was fairly sure Aelin wanted to kill me. Not that she was in any state to do so after her burnout, but the glare she kept sending me over her tea told me she was seriously considering throwing off her layers of blankets and slitting my throat if I asked her if she was hungry one more time. Not that she needed any encouragement to eat. Even though she kept complaining that I was smothering her, she'd scarfed down every morsel of food I'd brought her and was now nursing her fourth cup of ginger tea.

Aelin's voice broke the silence."You know," she said as she sipped from her mug, "I highly doubt that anyone is going to attack me _now_ , if they've already put up with my nonsense for this long."

I didn't even bother to look up from the map I was currently studying. "This isn't negotiable."

I hadn't let Aelin get out of bed all day, even when Emrys and Luca had come by to see her. I hadn't been able to contain my growl at the sight of them, the urge to tear out their throats for just being within _speaking_ distance of Aelin stronger than I had anticipated. It didn't matter that they weren't a real threat to her. Fae males were naturally territorial, a trait that only magnified itself when another Fae, especially a female, was hurt or injured. I was normally better at controlling myself, but something about Aelin's current state was making every bone in my body burn with the urge to protect and defend.

It was now late afternoon, golden sunlight pouring in through the open window, and I was once again looking over the maps that showed the locations of the dead bodies, trying to see if there was something I'd missed. The lack of new information was making me almost as restless and irritable as Aelin currently was.

"So you mean to tell me that whenever someone comes close to burnout, she not only goes through all this misery, but if she's female, the males around her go berserk?" Aelin said the words with enough genuine irritation that I might have laughed, if not for the wince she let out right after. She'd been doing it all day, and even though I knew she would deny it if I asked I could tell she was still in pain.

I spun around to face her. " _This_ is hardly berserk," I said, fighting the urge to go over and check on her again. "At least you can defend yourself by physical means when your magic is useless. For other Fae, even if they've had weapons and defense training, if they can't touch their magic, they're vulnerable, especially when they're drained and in pain. That makes people—usually males, yes—somewhat edgy. Others have been known to kill without thought any perceived threat, real or otherwise."

"What sort of threat? Maeve's lands are peaceful." As she said it she leaned over to set her mug down on the table, but before she could move more than a few inches I was up and at her side. I took the empty mug from her, ignoring the incredulous look she gave me as I refilled it.

"Threats from anywhere- makes, females, creatures... you can't reason against it," I explained, reaching for the tray of food on the edge of my worktable. "Even if it wasn't our culture, there would still be an instinct to protect the defenseless, regardless of whether they're female or male, young or old." I grabbed a bowl of beef broth and a slice of bread, holding them out to her. "Eat this."

"It pains me to say this, but one more bite and I'll be sick all over the place." She was doing her best to sound annoyed, but the layer of softness behind the irritation in her voice made me think she wasn't as bothered by my hovering as she was trying to make it seem.

I ignored her protests, dipping the bread in the broth before I held it out to her again. "You need to keep up your energy. You probably came so close to burnout because you didn't have enough food in your stomach."

She sighed, taking the food from me with another roll of her eyes. I glanced over at the fire, making sure it wasn't in danger of going out. I had woken this morning to find Aelin shaking with chills despite the blankets covering her. I looked around the room, making sure nothing else was out of place. The window was open in case she had any hot flashes, the door locked to prevent another Emrys and Luca incident, and another pot of tea was already steeping on my work table. Okay, so maybe I was fussing just a little.

I could feel Aelin staring at me from the other side of the room, her eyes practically burning a hole in the back of my head. I looked over at her, unable to stop a frown from forming at the sight of her limp form. Her skin was still coated in sweat from her hot flashes and even though the look in her eyes was one of mounting irritation they were also glazed with pain.

Seeing that Aelin had finished the bread and broth I crossed the room and took the empty bowl from her, setting it down on the table and trying my best to hide my look of concern as she winced and reached a hand up to massage her forehead.

"So when the magic runs out," she said, looking over at me. "That's it- either you stop or you burn out."

"Well, there's the _carranam_ ," I said, leaning back into my chair.

Aelin shot me a questioning look, obviously intrigued. "It's hard to explain," I said, trying to think of how best to describe that particular bond to her. "I've only ever seen it used a handful of times on killing fields. When you're drained, your carranam can yield their power to you, as long as you're compatible and actively sharing a blood connection."

Aelin tilted her head to the side. "If we were carranam, and I gave you my power, would you still only be using wind and ice—not my fire?" I nodded.

"How do you know if you're compatible with someone?" She asked, staring at me intently.

"There's no way of telling until you try. And the bond is so rare that the majority of Fae never meet someone who is compatible, or whom they trust enough to test it out. There's always a threat that they could take too much—and if they're unskilled, they could shatter your mind. Or you could both burn out completely."

"Could you ever just steal magic from someone?" She didn't say it with any emotion except pure curiosity, the look in her eyes reminding me of when I'd taken her to visit Maeve's healers.

"Less savory Fae once attempted to do so—to win battles and add to their own power—but it never worked. And if it did, it was because the person they held hostage was coincidentally compatible. Maeve outlawed any forced bonds long before I was born, but … I've been sent a few times to hunt down corrupt Fae who keep their carranam as slaves. Usually, the slaves are so broken there's no way to rehabilitate them. Putting them down is the only mercy I can offer." I thought of the few times I'd been sent to find those who forced bonds on their carranams, and the ends they'd met. An image of a Fae female crouched in a corner, chained and broken, flashed through my mind.

The memories were distant and I made sure to keep my tone steady, but Aelin's gaze had softened when I looked up at her. "Doing that must be harder than all the wars and sieges you've ever waged."

Even though the reminder of all I'd done over the centuries caused a series of painful memories to overshadow my thoughts, there was something in the tone of her voice that made it easy to push them away. Still, I couldn't stop the next words from coming out. "Immortality is not as much of a gift as mortals would believe. It can breed monsters that even you would be sick to learn about. Imagine the sadists you've encountered- and then imagine them with millennia to hone their craft and warped desires."

Aelin shuddered, her gaze darkening for a moment. I almost felt bad for bringing it up but then she shook her head slightly, nestling into the pillows. "This conversation's becomes too awful to have after eating," she said, mischief suddenly in her gaze as she turned to look at me. "Tell me which of one of your little cadre is the handsomest, and if he would fancy me."

"The thought of you with any of my companions makes my blood run cold." I almost choked on the words, the series of images she had managed to create in my head not ones I had ever wanted to see.

It was true. The thought of her with Gavriel or Vaughn, gods I didn't even want to _think_ about Lorcan, made me bristle. If anyone, Fenrys would show some interest. Hell, he _had_. Even though I knew that had mostly been about escaping Maeve's clutches, somehow the last thing I wanted to do was mention him to Aelin.

"They're that awful?" She asked, still smirking slightly. "Your kitty-cat friend looked decent enough."

I raised my eyebrows at her, not even able to process her referring to Gavriel as my _kitty-cat friend_. "I don't think my kitty-cat friend would know what to do with you—nor would any of the others. It would likely end in bloodshed."

She was still smiling like she knew just how uncomfortable our current topic of conversation was making me. "They would likely have very little interest in you, as you'll be old and decrepit soon enough and thus not worth the effort it would take to win you," I told her, hoping that would end the conversation.

Aelin just rolled her eyes. "Killjoy," she muttered, but I was just relieved that she didn't push the topic any further.

We slipped into silence, the fire crackling softly in the corner. My eyes automatically went to Aelin, looking her over. Her skin was still gleaming with sweat, and even though she seemed mostly lucid I could see the exhaustion in her eyes. My gaze drifted down her body, stopping at her bare wrists. At the sight of the thin white bands wrapping around them. She had once told me they were from her masters training, back when we had still been at each other's throats.

"A skilled healer could probably get rid of those scars- definitely the ones on your wrists, and most on your back." Even as I said it, I had a feeling what her answer would be.

She tensed, and for a moment I thought I may have gone too far. I wouldn't blame her if she didn't want to speak to me about it. But when she spoke there wasn't any anger or resentment in her voice, only quiet pain. "There were cells in the bowels of the mines that they used to punish slaves. Cells so dark you would wake up in them and think you'd been blinded. They locked me in there sometimes—once for three weeks straight. And the only thing that got me through it was reminding myself of my name, over and over and over—I am Celaena Sardothien."

I had heard about the conditions in those camps, but to hear it from her... Aelin glanced up at me, like she was waiting for me to tell her to stop. When I didn't, she kept going.

"When they would let me out, so much of my mind had shut down in the darkness that the only thing I could remember was that my name was Celaena. Celaena Sardothien, arrogant and brave and skilled, Celaena who did not know fear or despair, Celaena who was a weapon honed by Death." She paused, whatever hold she had previously had on her emotions faltering as she reached up and ran a shaking hand through her hair. The sight made me want to tell her it was enough, that she didn't have to say anymore, but I couldn't seem to get my mouth to work.

"I don't usually let myself think about that part of Endovier," Aelin said, her voice once again quiet and still. "After I got out, there were nights when I would wake up and think I was back in those cells, and I would have to light every candle in my room to prove I wasn't. They don't just kill you in the mines—they break you."

There was a moment of silence as I tried to find the right words to say, but she beat me to it. "There are thousands of slaves in Endovier, and a good number are from Terrasen. Regardless of what I do with my birthright, I'm going to find a way to free them someday. I _will_ free them. Them, and all the slaves in Calaculla, too. So my scars serve as a reminder of that."

I believed her. Even without seeing the fierce determination in her eyes, I would have. She had survived Endovier. And I had a feeling there were far worse demons that haunted her.

"What happened ten years ago Aelin?" The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it. _Gods, what was thinking?_ She had just told me details of her enslavement at the age of seventeen, ones that I doubted she had shared with anyone else and _that_ was the first thing I said to her?

"I'm not going to talk about that." Fair. More than fair, actually. She didn't owe me anything. Still...

"If you took up your crown, you could free Endovier far more easily than-" She cut me off before I could finish.

"I _can't_ talk about it."

"Why?" There was enough pained conviction in her voice to make me soften mine as I asked the question. I told myself if she insisted anymore I would stop pushing. I was the last person to be questioning personal boundaries. But I was finally starting to understand her, and I didn't want whatever this was to stop.

Aelin vision darkened. She raised a hand to rub at her forehead, as if that would force whatever painful memory that was haunting her to go away. But I knew as well as anyone that wasn't how it worked. You couldn't ignore your problems, or push them away. Something I knew both Aelin and I were familiar with doing.

When Aelin finally spoke, her voice was cracking with pain. "There is this... rage," she said, shaking her head slightly. "This despair and hatred and rage that lives and breathes inside me. There is no sanity to it, no gentleness. It is a monster dwelling under my skin. For the past ten years, I have worked every day, every hour, to keep that monster locked up. And the moment I talk about those two days, and what happened before and after, that monster is going to break loose, and there will be no accounting for what I do.

"That is how I was able to stand before the King of Adarlan, how I was able to befriend his son and his captain, how I was able to live in that palace. Because I did not give that rage, those memories, one inch. And right now I am looking for the tools that might destroy my enemy, and I cannot let out the monster, because it will make me use those tools against the king, not put them back as I should—and I might very well destroy the world for spite. So that is why I must be Celaena, not Aelin—because being Aelin means facing those things, and unleashing that monster. Do you understand?"

I did. I understood _too_ well. I understood what it was like to feel a rage so intense and burning it felt like you would tear the world to pieces if you let it in. A rage that was easier to bury than face, which is what we'd both been doing. Under the guise of sparing the world from our anger, our pain. Or at least that's what we pretended we were doing, when really it was because living without that rage and pain didn't seem like something we deserved. These past few weeks, this conversation, were finally starting to make me see just how similar Aelin and I were in relation to our self-inflicted suffering.

"For whatever it's worth, I don't think you would destroy the world from spite." She looked up at me, the surprise and trepidation in her gaze urging me to continue. "But I also think you like to suffer. You collect scars because you want proof that you are paying for whatever sins you've committed. And I know this because I've been doing the same damn thing for two hundred years. Tell me, do you think you will go to some blessed Afterworld, or do you expect a burning hell? You're hoping for hell—because how could you face them in the After-world? Better to suffer, to be damned for eternity and—"

"That's enough." The words were barely more than a whisper, but they made me stop speaking quicker than any shout would have. _Gods, what was I doing?_ She had just described what it had been like to be enslaved in Endovier for a year, hell she wasn't even fully recovered from almost burning out and I had-

Silence once again flooded the room as I turned back to my work table. Aelin closed her eyes, her breathing slowing. After a few minutes I looked back over at her. I almost thought she was asleep until she shifted slightly. I stood, moving away from the map that I'd really just been staring blankly at for the past hour.

She didn't move as I settled down on the bed next to her. I didn't touch her, but I was close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off of her. Aelin didn't open her eyes, but she did shift closer to me. I sat there in silence for a few moments, listening to the reassuring sound of Aelin's breathing as I decided what to say to her.

"At least if you're going to hell then we'll be there together." I didn't know how comforting that fact was, but I needed her to understand that no matter what she thought of herself, I was no better.

"I feel bad for the dark god already." Aelin's response was muffled, but it still made me feel warm in a way that had nothing to do with the fire. I reached over almost subconsciously, stroking a hand through her hair. It was soft underneath my fingertips, the blonde strands glinting in the firelight. I half expected her to bite me just out of habit but she only nestled further into the blankets, the sound that came out of her almost a purr.

"When I'm back to normal, can I assume you're going to yell at me for almost burning out?"

I laughed, not stopping my hands path through her hair. "You have no idea."

I looked down just in time to see the smile that crossed her face. Not the smirk or sneer of contempt I was used to seeing, but one born from pure happiness. My hand froze for a moment at the sight and I felt Aelin tense underneath me, almost like she didn't want me to stop.

I didn't. I could feel exhaustion starting to pull at me, the feeling of Aelin's hair and her body pressed against mine doing nothing to stop it, but I needed to say one more thing to her.

"I have no doubt that you'll be able to free the slaves from the labor camps some day. No matter what name you use."

Aelin didn't say anything. Instead, she reached out a hand and placed it on my chest. Right above my heart. She shifted closer to me, her head almost on my shoulder. I suddenly realized how long it had been since I'd been this at peace with anyone- friend or lover.

"Thank you for looking out for me," she murmured into my chest, her breath warm against my skin. I made a faint sound of thanks, of dismissal but before I could say anything else I felt Aelin soften against me, her body going lax with sleep. I looked down at her. She looked the most relaxed I had ever seen her, curled up against me with her blonde hair splayed out across the pillow. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, moving my hand away from her head to grasp the one she had laid on my chest. It's warmth was the last thing I felt before I drifted off to sleep.

 **You have no idea how happy I am right now. That was literally the most painful chapter I've ever written. I'm so happy it's done, even if I wasn't crazy about the ending. By the way, this chapter was getting so long that I decided to split chapter 43 of HoF into two parts- the second part should hopefully be coming soon since it'll be a lot shorter!**

 **Also, it's kind of scary how well I know the books after writing this fic. Like I can accurately quote entire scenes with Rowan and Aelin from memory. I have a list of what happens in each chapter that I reference but now I just know them automatically lol- how you know you spend too much time thinking about Rowaelin.**

 **Responses to the reviews on my last chapter are below! Sorry it took me so long to get back to you all, or if I already responded to you and forgot! I love you guys! Thanks for putting up with me**!

 **firehottie:** thank you so much! i'm glad you liked it, sorry it took me so long to update.

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 **saaaaaamsayshi:** omg thank you!! i'm so happy you like it. trust me, protective/concerned rowan is my favorite thing. i'm pretty sure i already responded to you via email, but in case i didn't thank you again! to answer your question, yes i'll for sure be writing the rowaelin reunion from QOS at some point! if you had another scene in mind i would be happy to try it out for you as well, if you still want it :)

 **DouxBebeGladiator:** thank you!! i know, there's not enough rowaelin fanfiction out there.

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 **Ali Genn:** it's here now love!! so so sorry for the long wait.

 **abidoodle.e:** first off, thank you for your generous and _beautiful_ review. i'm seriously feeling the love. thank for all your kind words i can't begin to process or deserve. this review put such a big smile on my face, you have no idea how nice it was to hear. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!! too much? not at all, but you'll have to forgive me if i sound a little emotional. it's three am and i'm struggling/putting off editing by gushing over all your reviews and feeling overly validated. and i just realized how many time i said thank you... still not going to change it lol. keep being amazing ;)

 **Too Wicked for this World:** THANK YOU!! i'm so happy you like this/think it sounds like rowan. again, i'm so sorry about the long wait. hope you enjoy this chapter!

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 **Writingnerd291:** why thank you!! i'm glad you liked the last chapter, and as always am very sorry it took me this long to update. hope you enjoyed it!


	16. Chapter 16

_"Thank you for looking out for me," she murmured into my chest, her breath warm against my skin. I made a faint sound of thanks, of dismissal but before I could say anything else I felt Aelin soften against me, her body going lax with sleep. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, moving my hand away from her head to grasp the one she had laid on my chest. It's warmth was the last thing I felt before I drifted off to sleep._

 **All rights go to the incredible Sarah J. Mass. I own nothing but my own interpretation of this beautiful story. Hope you enjoy :)**

 **Rowan's POV:**

As I stood across the clearing from Aelin watching that newly returned fire flicker in her gaze, her muscles already tensed to fight after seeing the gleam of promised violence in my eyes, it was hard not to think about how it had felt to have her body pressed against mine.

It had been three days, and still the image of her head on my chest, golden hair gleaming in the firelight, was burned into my brain. And even though I had made sure to keep to my side of the bed these past few nights, there were more than a few times where I had caught myself thinking about how it had felt to hold her hand. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt that at ease, that relaxed. It had taken centuries for me to even look at another woman after Lyria, and even then I hadn't felt any desire towards any of them, none of that _warmth_ touching Aelin had conjured in my chest. Warmth not born from flames or magic, but simply by physical contact with another person. It had been so long since I'd touched someone, intimately or otherwise I had almost forgotten how _good_ it felt. Even breathing had become easier.

Even after the symptoms of her near burnout had begun to fade, I had kept Aelin confined to my room for three more days. A decision that had been met with nothing but snarling and complaints from Aelin. She kept insisting she was _fine_ , even when she'd still been struggling to sit up without groaning. Even so, the past few days had been peaceful. Pleasant, even. The hours I spent studying maps and reports had as usual yielded no results but there had been a certain... comfort, in having Aelin there. I had found myself getting used to her presence, to the constant stream of comments and questions she liked to pester me with, to her warmth drifting over from the other side of the bed no matter how much space I put between us. It had become instinct to hear the sound of her breathing, to search for it in those steady, easy silences we so often slipped into. So much so that when I had left it had felt like there was a empty space beside me. One that belonged to a girl with sharp-tongued words and wild, untempered flames.

I had been gone for only a few hours, during the time it took me to travel to the coast and back. Where another demi-Fae corpse had been found. The urge to track down whatever vile creature had done it, to shred it into ribbons with my ice and wind and blades, had been strong enough that only the thought of Aelin, alone and still recovering from her burnout, had me turning back to Mistward. When I had returned, it only took me mentioning where I'd been to have Aelin demanding I take her there. I had told her that there was no need for her to do so, which was true. The corpse had been the same as all the others. A husk of a body with no signs of harm other than the dried streams of blood trickling down from its nose and ears. I'd even gone back to the town we'd visited, and though the villagers had been more than happy to see me and my bag of gold, they hadn't noticed anything that pointed to where the beast might be hiding out.

Before I'd left, Aelin had made a passing comment about it being her nineteenth birthday. And how me leaving her alone for a few hours would be present enough. She'd seemed utterly indifferent about the whole matter, as if the passing years were inconsequential. Perhaps they were, if she was one of the rare fae granted immortality. Still, the reminder of just how young she really was had been strangely jarring. The power she held, combined with all her bravado and arrogance to back it up, made it easy to forgot she was barely more than a child. _Had_ been a child, when they had shoved her in those mines designed to break her. Only she hadn't allowed them to. She had fought, had survived on nothing but her own strength, her own will to live. Only nineteen, and already Aelin had faced a brand of darkness that would have broken some of the bravest and oldest fae warriors.

She had emerged from Endovier with scars and demons that would perhaps never truly fade, but she'd still held onto the fire that had been slumbering in her bones. Her fire. It was awake now, roiling and thrashing beneath her skin, waiting to be unleashed. Along with that light, that warmth she had somehow managed to keep. A light that had flickered to life in her eyes at the sight of the box of chocolates I had brought her.

I told her it was because I was insulted she deemed my absence a proper birthday present and had promptly shrugged off and snarled at her attempts to embrace me. Still, the next time she got up to use the wash room she'd snuck up behind me and planted a quick, smacking kiss on my cheek. I had waved her off and wiped my face with a snarl, but perhaps a small part of me had let her get past my defenses.

oOo

The heat from the sun blazing down on us was nothing compared to the fire in Aelin's gaze. Standing across the sunlit clearing, her eyes tracking my every movement, she looked like flame given flesh. Her fire ready and waiting to be unleashed after it's days kept dormant. _Good,_ I thought. I wanted to play with it.

Aelin _had_ said she wanted to get outside. Insisted upon it, actually. For days. And I had told her that when she was back to normal I planned to make her life a living hell.

I wasn't one to break my promises.

"Your magic lacks shape," I said, Aelin straightening ever so slightly at my tone. "And because it has no shape, you have little control. As a form of attack, a fireball or wave of flame is useful, yes. But if you are engaging a skilled combatant- if you want to be able to _use_ your power- then you have to learn to fight with it."

Aelin let out a groan.

I ignored her, adding a slight bite to my voice as I continued. "But you have one advantage that many magic-wielders do not: you already know how to fight with weapons."

"First chocolates on my birthday, now an actual compliment?"

My eyes narrowed at her cocky, teasing tone, at the smirk that accompanied it.

 _The more you talk, the more I'm going to make you pay in a moment._

I didn't bother to speak the words out loud, but by the glint in Aelin's eyes and the amused curve of her lips she understood it all the same.

 _Apologies, master. I am yours to instruct._

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at that, at the arrogance and amusement dancing on every unspoken syllable.

 _Brat._ Aelin's smile turned vicious at the silent insult.

I jerked my chin at her. "Your fire can take whatever form you wish- the only limit being your imagination. And considering your upbringing, should you go on the offensive-"

She interrupted me before I could finish, eyebrows already raised. "You want me to make a sword out of fire?"

"Arrows, daggers- you direct the power. Visualize it, and use it as you would a mortal weapon."

Aelin audibly swallowed, her mask of confidence slipping ever so slightly. I could sense the fear rising in her at the unspoken challenge. This was what she was truly afraid of, I realized. Not just the depths of her power, but what she could do if she actually learned to control it.

 _Afraid to play with fire, Princess?_

I practically saw Aelin's blood boil at the taunt, her flames flickering to life in response to the playful ice I coated my words with.

 _You won't be happy if I singe your eyebrows off._

 _Try me,_ I shot back. I wanted to see the fire burning in her gaze, _her_ fire. What she could really do with it now that her self-imposed barriers were finally beginning to fall. I spoke the next words out loud, ready to get down to business. "When you trained as an assassin, what was the first thing you learned?"

"How to defend myself," Aelin answered, the flames in her eyes shuttering in apprehension as she finally understood why I was so excited for today's lessons.

"Good," I said, making _sure_ she saw the gleam in my eyes this time. Oh, this was going to be fun.

oOo

Aelin was failing miserably, but at least hurling ice daggers at her was proving to be far more fun than watching her try to light candles in the ruins.

We'd been at it for less than an hour, and already I could Aelin was ready to make good on her promise of singeing my eyebrows off. Her bravado from this morning had been replaced by fire filled glares and a constant stream of swearing, but still my daggers of ice were met by nothing but air and Aelin's flesh. She'd managed to conjure that shield of fire a few times, but it was always too far away to do her any good.

I'd made the rules clear. A small, controlled shield. That was all I wanted, all it would take for me to stop my assault. But only that controlled shield, not the wall of flames I knew she was dying to unleash. But she didn't, even as I sent dagger after dagger flying in her direction. No matter how many times those daggers found their mark.

Covered in sweat and blood, her breath a series of ragged pants, I could feel Aelin's mind edging towards defeat. I growled at it, at her eagerness to give in. To give up. _That_ was her problem. Not a lack of control, but lacking the will to actually _try_. To push herself, push her magic. Fearing what would happen if she did. It had nearly gotten her killed on Beltane, and it _would_ get her killed in the future if she didn't learn to face it.

"Try harder," I growled, sending two daggers of ice at her head. They glistened in the sunlight as they spun through the air, missing Aelin by a hair as she rolled out of their path.

"I _am_ trying," she hissed back, fire crackling in her gaze. Her eyes stayed locked on me as she spoke, watching my every move. Waiting for the next onslaught of daggers to come her way.

"You're acting like you're on the verge of a burnout," I said, conjuring another dagger of ice into being above my head. I let it spin in place as I waited for her response.

"Maybe I am." She said it without taking her eyes off the dagger of ice, fists clenching at her sides.

I fought the urge to scoff at that, at her willingness to believe that keeping three fires lit was the depth of her powers. "If you believe for one moment that you're close to a burnout after an hour of practicing-"

"It happened that quickly on Beltane."

"That was _not_ the end of your power." Gods, she was so damn stubborn. So afraid. She wasn't oblivious to what she could to do if she would just push herself, if she dared to reach into the depths of her power. Their _true_ depths, not some boundary she had created for herself out of fear. Fear of what those powers of hers could really do if she just stopped holding back. Stopped holding _herself_ back.

"You fell into the lure of the magic and let it do what it wanted- let it consume you. Had you kept your head, you could have had those fires burning for weeks- months."

"No." The word was Aelin's only response, a blatant sign of how quick she was to dismiss her powers, dismiss herself. She didn't want what I said to be true, didn't want to face the full extent of her magic.

"I knew it. You wanted your power to be insignificant- you were relieved when you thought that was all you had." My voice and words were biting, merciless. Just like the three daggers I sent flying towards her, one after another.

She raised her arm, her brow crinkling as she tried to will that shield of fire into existence. But there was no sizzle of ice against flame, only the sound of Aelin cursing as each one of those daggers buried themselves in her forearm.

"Stop hitting me! I get the point!" She hissed at me, a hand clutching her arm where the daggers had sliced three thin cuts in her flesh. Her fingers came away bloody.

I didn't listen. Didn't care. If she wanted to hide from her power, then she would have to be willing to face the consequences. I sent another dagger soaring for her shoulder. Her torso. Her head.

Aelin whirled and rolled and dodged, each attempt to avoid the bite of my daggers met with more and more swearing. She raised that bloodied arm again and again, each failed attempt at summoning a shield followed by a hiss of pain. She swerved to the left as I sent two more daggers at her, just in time for her face to catch the third one I sent spinning through the air. Aelin let out a snarl as it carved a thin scratch along her cheek.

I could feel her rage rising with each failed attempt to control her power, each time the dagger found its mark. She was angry at me yes, but she was _furious_ at her magic's unwillingness to cooperate. I could practically feel the thoughts pounding into her skull, her bones. The claim she laid down.

 _Hers._

The magic was hers to command, hers to wield and manipulate anyway she wished. She was not it's slave, she was _no one's_ slave. Not anymore. And if I threw one more dagger at her _face_ -

 _There._

The shard of ice didn't make it past her raised forearm before it vanished in a hiss of steam. As it met the burning red flames Aelin had willed into being. Flames that held the shape of a shield. And in Aelin's eyes... awe. Awe at herself, at what she'd done. Pride too, as she met my gaze above that simmering shield of fire.

A smile slowly made it's way onto my face.

"We're done for today," I told her, not trying to hide the flicker of pride that slipped into my voice. "Go eat something."

But when Aelin's gaze met mine... it held no fear, no hesitation. Only controlled, burning, strength. "No," she said, every breath that escaped her lips tingling with power. _"Again."_

oOo

We worked for hours after that, every day for a week, until Aelin could form more than a dozen shields, each one varying in size and temperature. Until she could have multiple defenses burning at once, could encircle the entire glen with half a thought in a wall of righteous, burning flame. Until the fear I'd seen in eyes since that very first day faded into a sea of embers and was burned away.

 **Hello lovelies, and welcome to another sporadic update of this story. As always I have to apologized for taking so long to update. The past two months have been so crazy and stressful it's been hard to juggle everything, but things are starting to settle down now so I hope I'll start posting more frequent updates. I started my second year of high school recently and it's literally been _hell_. I'm only a month in the school year and I've already had too many mental breakdowns to count, so wish me luck haha. I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but it felt like the right place to stop and I wanted to get this up as soon as possible. I hope you enjoyed it! As always, please review, follow, and favorite. I love attention and validation, and it always makes me feel guilty for not updating when I read your lovely reviews.**

 **In other news, I created a writeblr on tumblr @writingtothestars where I post my own creative writing as well as updates on this story and anything else I'm working on. It would mean so much to me if you guys checked it out and gave it a follow! If you do, make sure to send me a message saying you're from here :)**

 **Okay I have to go now because it's late and I have to get up early for school tomorrow, but I just want to thank you for all the love you've given me and this story. I'm hopefully going to have another chapter up before Kingdom of Ash comes out (ONE MONTH FROM TODAY!!), but if I don't... well good luck to all of you. It's likely I'll be dead/a gigantic puddle of emotions for a good while after reading it so if I'm not on here for a bit that's why. Love you all!! To whatever end.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Since I've been gone for so long and am literally the worst person in the entire world, here's a bonus update before the next actual chapter goes up! Long story short, the past few months I've been running around like crazy trying to get my life in order (college, junior courses, etc, etc). I needed a good long while to recover from KOA, and then I was drowning in the sea that is NaNoWriMo and working on my own personal writing. For those of you who have stood by this story, thank you so so so much. I'm eternally grateful.**

 **This chapter is Rowan's POV from the HOF excerpt in the exclusive Target edition. It takes place between chapters 43 and 45 of Heir of Fire and includes a visit by some Fae nobility to Mistward, plus lots of Rowaelin fluff. For those of you who have read it, I hope you enjoy this and for those of you that haven't, I'll link it below. Happy reading!**

 **Here's the link to the excerpt! (not mine) : https/amp/bookofademigod./post/150043620861/master-post-of-the-target-empire-of-storms-short/amp**

 **Rowan's POV**

"What's your favorite food?"

Aelin's voice broke the peaceful silence they had settled into, cleaving the seductive lull of the afternoon heat. Sunlight streamed down into the clearing, heating the smooth surface of the boulder beneath them, it's steady warmth so different from the crackling embers and roaring flames of the woman sitting beside him.

The same sunlight turned Aelin's hair into molten gold as she tipped her head back, tossing a nut into the air and catching it in her mouth. The hours spent training under Wendlyn's sun had darkened her pale skin, as well as adding layers of muscle and curves to her lithe form. Aelin had never been weak, even when Rowan had found her drunk and wasted on the rooftops of Varese, but these past weeks she seemed more... alive. Not just physically, but emotionally. As if the fire fueling her will to live had been rekindled.

"Whatever keeps me alive at the moment," Rowan said, not taking his eyes off the rolling green hills and valleys of Wendlyn stretching out below them. They had climbed high enough Mistward was nothing but a cluster of grey amidst a sea of vibrant greens and browns, it's inhabitants invisible even with his eyesight.

Rowan had brought Aelin up here with the full intention of training, honestly. Then, he'd remembered what he planned on asking her today and decided they could both use a break. Aelin was nowhere near ready to face Maeve, but she'd been training relentlessly since her burnout. This past week, the barrier of fear she'd used to control her powers had begun to fracture, aided by each test of strength and control Rowan had thrown her way. And as for what he planned on asking her...

"Could you be any more of an animal?"

Aelin's response broke his train of thought, the look of disapproval in her gaze making Rowan momentarily forget why he'd brought them up here in the first place. He gave her a look, eyebrows raised.

 _You do remember what my other form is, don't you?_

Rowan could practically _hear_ Aelin rolling her eyes at his lack of a proper answer, but when he looked at her there was no anger in her gaze, only a familiar expression of exasperation and annoyance.

He was still getting used to it, this new dynamic between them. Aelin's anger still made an appearance, along with her pain and grief, but it had softened slightly. Not because of her burnout, but because of what had followed it. The story she'd shared with Rowan in the quiet of his rooms, the story of _her_ , of her past and how she'd become so broken. Rowan tried not to think about it, or that night in general. Not because the memories were unpleasant, but because they're _weren't_. Listening to her tell that story, seeing the scars on her back, had awoken some deep, slumbering part of him. One Rowan was nowhere near ready to face.

So he tried to ignore those memories, to forget how Aelin had laid her head on his chest, her hand a steady warmth in his as they'd drifted off to sleep. The smile on her face when he'd run his fingers through her hair, filled with contentment and joy from simple human touch, had stayed with Rowan like a shard of ash buried beneath his skin. The warmth that had flooded his chest at the sight of it had hit him like a physical blow, it's talons sinking into his frozen heart and thawing the ice he had encased it with for centuries. The desire to see Aelin smile like that again was powerful enough he'd had to restrain himself from touching her every night since.

Aelin and him shared a burden that could only be eased by talking about it, a truth they'd been slowly exploring since her burnout. It had become normal, this game of questions between them. Sometimes, like right now, the questions were as harmless as the steady, unintrusive warmth of the boulder they were perched on. Other times, they burned and bit like the flames and ice the two of them wielded. Like the heat thawing the ice in his chest, Rowan still hadn't decided how he felt about it. Still, talking with Aelin felt... good. Sharing his past with someone, even if it was through these little shreds of information, felt _good_.

"There's a street vendor in Doranelle who sells meat on a stick."

Rowan regretted the words the moment they passed his lips and Aelin turned to look at him, her lips pressed together in a gods-awful attempt to hide her smirk. "Meat on a stick."

It wasn't a question.

"And I suppose yours is some confection or useless bit of sugar," he snapped.

Aelin leaned closer, the rings of gold in her eyes glowing like threads of flame. "Sweets aren't useless. And _yes_. I'd crawl over hot coals for a piece of chocolate hazelnut cake right now."

Aelin's voice remained even as she spoke, but Rowan didn't miss the shadows that darkened her gaze. Another memory from her past coming back to haunt her, dragging her down into the pit of emptiness and grief they were both so familiar with.

Rowan ignored it.If she wanted to tell him, she would. Until then, Rowan wouldn't push her. It had been their promise from the beginning. To give each other space to sort out their wasted, ruined selves. Even if some primal, male part of him wanted the exact opposite.

He chose to attack the second part of her answer instead. "What good could that possibly be for keeping your body strong? With your magic, you'd burn through it and be hungry again within half an hour."

Aelin propped herself up on an elbow, amusement driving back the shadows in her eyes as she turned to face him. Something in Rowan's chest eased at the sight, a tightness he hadn't noticed until it vanished. He ignored that too.

"Your priorities are _obscenely_ out of order," she said, that wicked, glorious amusement once again dancing in her gaze. "Not all food is for survival and strength-building. You didn't even _try_ one of the chocolates from that town. I guarantee the moment you do, every time I turn my back, you'll be shoveling them down."

Aelin was clamping her lips together to contain her howls even before she finished speaking, and Rowan was about to demand they start training just to shut her up when—

"Favorite color?"

"Green." The word was past his lips before Rowan even considered not answering her.

"I'm surprised you actually know," Aelin quipped, staring far too intently at the valley below in an attempt to avoid his glare.

Rowan glared at her anyway, but didn't voice the retort that sprung to his lips. Halting it, along with the urge to see how quickly that sass of hers would disappear if he started sending ice daggers her way. Not that it had done anything but infuriate her the first time.

"What's yours?" Another part of the deal they'd made. Information for information.

"For a while, I made myself believe it was blue. But— it's always been red. You probably know why."

Red for the flames she had once loved so fiercely, and then for the blood she'd allowed to stain her hands in their place. Rowan huffed a sound of grim understanding, but didn't say anything as Aelin laid back against the stone and raised a tan, scarred hand above her head. After a moment, a tendril of fire appeared between her fingers. A living ribbon of flame that slithered down her palm and curled itself around her wrist.

"Good. Your control is improving," he said, watching the flames flicker against Aelin's skin.

Aelin hummed her agreement, lifting her other hand as rings of fire encircled her fingers. She was silent as she began to carve patterns into the bands of flame.

The silence, the threat of the shadows returning to her gaze, had the words tumbling past Rowan's lips. "Try it on me."

Aelin turned to look at him, her fire jewelry flickering like a mirage in the afternoon sun. She frowned at the suggestion, but Rowan opened his mouth before she could protest.

"Do it," he said, not taking his eyes off hers. A request, not an order. Not with this.

Rowan didn't dare move as a crown of fire appeared on top of his head, it's flames licking the tips of his silver hair. No heat emanated from it, even though the flames were as real as the rock beneath them.

Aelin still didn't say anything, her attention entirely on the crown of flame she'd created. Rowan could see the fire flickering in her gaze as she began to create individual leaves out of the flames. A wreath of molten, jewel-toned fire.

Rowan chose his next words very carefully. "Bold move. One that doesn't have much space for error."

"I'm surprised you're not encasing your head with ice."

The comment was casual enough anyone else might have missed the flash of vulnerability in Aelin's gaze. A girl who had spent her entire life with people who had taught her to fear her power, to fear _herself_ , until she had come to believe everyone else would too.

It was the look on her face, the vulnerability in her voice as she waited for him to show some sign of fear at having her flames so close to his head, that made Rowan say his next words.

"I trust you."

It was barely more than a murmur, but that didn't stop Aelin from tearing her gaze away from her flames to look at him. Her blank expression cracked, surprise and gratitude breaking through at his admission.

It was true, though. Rowan hadn't realized it until now, but he trusted her. Perhaps in more ways than he was ready to admit. The least important of them being control over her magic. Still, the least he could do was show her a small piece of that trust, the same one she'd given him by allowing her flames so close.

"And now one for you," he said, summoning a bite of cold to break through the afternoon heat on a roaring, snow-kissed wind and forming a crown of ice in the space between them. Emotion pooled in Aelin's gaze, but she was silent as Rowan lifted the crown and placed it on her head. Its delicate spikes sparkled in the sunlight, ice gleaming against her golden hair. A crown fit for a queen.

Aelin certainly looked like one, with the fire flickering in her gaze and her flame jewelry burning alongside the crown of ice he'd made for her.

Rowan opened his mouth, but Aelin smiled and anything he might have said flew right out of his head. It was the same smile she'd given him the night of her burnout, and it still made him damn near speechless. Then, it had been hindered by her sweat soaked skin and pain dimmed eyes but now... now there was nothing to hide the quiet joy on Aelin's face.

Rowan smiled back at her, a small, steady thing, but as soon as the happiness crossed Aelin's face it disappeared. Her smile fell, the fire in her eyes dimming. The flames decorating her hands flickered and vanished, followed by the crown of fire on his head. Aelin didn't look at him as she stood, stalking down to the edge of the boulder and wrapping her arms around herself.

Rowan dissolved the crown of ice on a breath of mist chilled wind. He hadn't meant it to be, but now realized how it only served as a reminder of the past she was trying so desperately to escape. A crown of ice for a queen without a throne. The shadows had returned to Aelin's gaze, her face carefully blank.

Still, Rowan didn't push. He was the last person with the right to demand someone face their past, and Aelin didn't need him repeating the thoughts already running through her head. She tortured herself enough without his help.

Rowan rose to his feet, sliding down the boulder to stand beside her. One look at the expression on her face told him this wasn't a time where talking about her pain and grief would help. So, he decided to choose a different route. One that would hopefully distract her, but was also the reason he'd been so eager to distract _himself_ this morning with their game.

"We're going to have visitors tonight."

Aelin still didn't look at him. "Should I be concerned?"

"I— need your help."

There. At least he'd gotten that part of the conversation over with.

"Ah. So that's why you let me have an afternoon of peace."

Rowan snarled at the jab, the blatant lack of respect, but the sound died in his throat when Aelin turned to look at him. The shadows were still there, but they had faded into the background. And even without the crown... Aelin looked regal. With her Ashryver eyes and golden hair, she might as well have been a living flame.

Aelin raised an eyebrow at him. "Will I finally be meeting your mysterious friends?"

Rowan almost laughed at the question, but stopped when he thought of Aelin actually meeting his... cadre, as she liked to call them. He knew she was only bringing up the topic because he'd reacted so strongly the first time she'd mentioned them, but the thought of her meeting any of his brothers made Rowan's blood run cold. Even Fenrys, who seemed more inclined to make Aelin's blood run _hot_ than anything else.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, Rowan buried it. Fenrys and Aelin were what he needed to be thinking about, now or ever. Especially if he wanted this conversation with Aelin to be a pleasant one.

"No," he said. "They're Fae nobility, passing through the area. They requested a place to stay for the night, and will arrive around sunset. Emrys is making them dinner, and I am expected to... entertain them."

Rowan met Aelin's gaze and when he just stared at her for a few moments, she caught on.

"Oh, no. No."

"They will not condescend to dine with the demi-Fae, and–"

"I'm even less acceptable than a demi-Fae!"

Rowan doubted any of the Fae would dare accuse Aelin of having diluted blood if they saw what a _demi-Fae_ like her could do, but that wasn't the point.

"If I have to play host to them all evening, it will likely end in bloodshed."

Another truth, one Rowan hoped she would understand without him having to clarify _why_ he wanted her help. Not to impress the Fae, but to keep him from splattering them all over the walls. Which was likely considering who was attending this evening.

Aelin blinked once. The only sign of surprise she'd show at the realization he was asking her for help. "Not favorites of yours?"

Not in the slightest, but Rowan still found himself avoiding the insinuation out of habit. It wasn't like Aelin would even recognize anyone he named, but the last thing he needed was it getting back to Maeve he was bad mouthing her little... visiting party.

"They're typical nobility. Not trained warriors. They expect to be treated a certain way," he said, fighting to get the words out past his gritted teeth.

"So? You're in Maeve's little cabal. And you're a prince to boot. Don't you outrank them?"

 _Technically, yes. Even if they won't act like it._

If there was one thing the Fae nobility and Aelin had in common, it was their complete disregard for Rowan's authority. The Fae only cared about his position when it could be used to their advantage. Aelin however... Rowan had a feeling Aelin would do anything short of facing the creature that had attacked her in the barrows before she treated him as her superior. It didn't bother him as much as it should have.

Rowan was careful to keep any emotion from entering his voice as he answered her. "Technically, but there are politics to consider. Especially when they'll be reporting to Maeve."

Aelin groaned. "So what— I'm supposed to play hostess?"

No. Yes. Gods, this was turning out to be a hell of a lot more confusing than Rowan had expected it to be. Asking Aelin to attend tonight's dinner, to help him deal with the Fae, had been a quick, selfish decision. Even with him as the meditator... this evening could easily become a disaster. Especially if Aelin exercised her delightful, raging temper on their visitors. And as for _who_ they'd be entertaining...

Rowan would think about that particular problem later. How he was going to deal with his former lover, what to tell Aelin about her. Oh, gods. He hadn't even considered how Aelin would react to _that_ particular part of his past.

Aelin was still staring at him, waiting for a response. Rowan sighed. "No," he told her. "Just— help me deal with them."

Aelin didn't give any indication she understood what the request meant, the small shred of trust it represented, but there were no shadows in her gaze when she asked, "And what am I going to get out of it?"

Rowan was tempted to tell her he wouldn't kick her ass but if tonight went well, if having Aelin there lowered the risk of staring a brawl that would get back to Maeve... "I'll find you a chocolate hazelnut cake."

"No." Rowan turned to look at her, eyebrows raised, and almost winced at the wicked expression on her face. "You'll just owe me. A favor that I can call in whenever I please."

It was a bad idea where Aelin was concerned, but Rowan couldn't bring himself to argue with her. Not when she was smiling like that, amused and mischievous and all sorts of wicked. Not when the shadows had finally vanished from her gaze.

Rowan sighed. Tonight was going to kill him, one way or the other. "Just look presentable at sundown."

Standing outside the fortress that evening with Aelin as they waited for the arrival of the Fae, Rowan had come to the conclusion that this entire situation was a mistake. A foolish, selfish mistake that would likely end in bloodshed.

The sun had already disappeared behind Wendlyn's rolling green hills, bathing Mistward in shades of violet and sapphire. Illuminated by the warm, golden light of the torches, the small courtyard was empty except for him, Aelin, and the guards on watch. As if the demi-Fae had heard who would be arriving tonight and had made the wise decision to stay as far away as possible. A decision Rowan regretted not making himself, not that he'd ever had a choice in the matter. The news of the Fae's arrival at Mistward and his role in _entertaining_ them for the evening had come directly from Maeve. His personal feeling on the matter were irrelevant.

The sounds of jingling bells and chattering voices drifted towards them through the trees and Aelin turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. "Really? You need my help with these prancing idiots?"

Rowan glared at her, internally wincing at the volume of her voice. In the lights of the fortress, Aelin's plaited hair shone like coils of golden rope, her turquoise eyes glowing like jewels against her tan skin. "Keep your voice down," he murmured, shooting a pointed look at her ears.

Aelin rolled her eyes, but miraculously kept her mouth shut as the party made their way past the wards and into the courtyard. Rowan tensed as they approached, every muscle in his body going taut at the sight of the Fae and the Asterion mares they rode, their coats gleaming in the torchlight. Five of them, including the two solemn guards who fixed their attention solely on him as the party dismounted. Rowan ignored their stares, especially as he caught a glimpse of pale blond hair followed by a light, feminine laugh.

"Rowan!" Sliding off her white mare with immortal grace, Remelle was across the courtyard and standing in front of him before he could blink. She held out her hands, a smile gracing her delicate, perfectly arranged features when Rowan reached out and took them in his own. The pleasantly surprised tone, the delight in her cerulean blue eyes, were both clever tricks designed to make those around them believe she was genuinely shocked to see him. Unlikely, considering she'd been the one to engineer this meeting between them.

"Lady Remelle," he said, fighting the urge to flinch as she tightened her grip on his hands. Despite the rosy tint to her cheeks, Remelle's skin was ice cold.

In the centuries Rowan had known her, Remelle had never been warm. She never changed either, always eager to remind those around her of the obvious, undeniable beauty and grace she possessed. If there was one thing Remelle valued, it was her standing in society and as far as she was concerned, anyone who didn't help her keep or raise it was nothing but dirt beneath her expensive shoes.

As a member of Maeve's inner circle, Rowan knew Remelle saw him as a way to climb in Doranelle's hierarchy. Rowan had known it a century ago, when he'd first taken her to bed. He hadn't cared then. Remelle's iciness hadn't deterred him, or the fact that she viewed him as little more than a stepping stone on her way into Maeve's good graces. A prize to be tamed and used to her advantage.

Her allure had worn off quickly enough, and Remelle had become a nuisance rather than a convenient distraction. Rowan had ended things, and made it quite clear he wasn't remotely interested in round two. Not that it had done anything to deter Remelle. If anything, it had made her more determined to... acquire him. A curse of their shared immortality, to always want the things you can't have.

That desire was blatantly obvious as Remelle's gaze raked over him, hunger pooling behind the mask of superiority she always wore. She eyed their joined hands as if she expected Rowan to place a kiss there, the delight in her eyes faltering when he released them and turned to greet her companions without another word.

"Lord Benson," Rowan said, ignoring the irritation rippling off Remelle at his quick dismissal. The male stalked forward, nodding as he took his place at Remelle's side. Out of the corner of his eye, Rowan saw him give Aelin a quick, dismissive glance but didn't dare look at her, not when Remelle was still eyeing him like a piece of fresh meat.

It was a relief to see the small, dark-haired female slinking towards them across the courtyard. Essar's brown skin would have glowed even without the light of the torches, and there was nothing but kindness and warmth in her gaze as she reached out to grasp Rowan's hands. It was the same greeting Remelle had used, but lacked her inherent coldness, and the smile he gave Essar was genuine.

Remelle allowed her ire at the gesture to show for only a moment before she hid it behind a simpering smile. Rowan went utterly still as she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, her long nails digging into the sleeve of his jacket. Every part of him narrowed in on the touch, the pure arrogance and ownership it contained. Remelle's hand didn't leave his shoulder as she said, "It's been an age, hasn't it? You never come to our parties, and Maeve keeps you all to herself."

It took every ounce of self control Rowan had gathered over the centuries to resist growling at her, the urge to tear Remelle's hand off of his arm and roar at her a tangible thing. The roaring in his ears quieted into lethal calm as she purred, "There was a time when I got to keep you to myself. Sometimes I miss those days."

The feeling wasn't mutual. No, Rowan didn't miss Remelle. Not the way she wielded pretty, poisonous words like weapons or how she spoke about him as if he was an object. He certainly hadn't missed her cold, proprietary touches. If there was one truth he'd realized over the past century it was that Remelle had been a _giant_ mistake. Just like this evening.

Remelle removed her hand from Rowan's shoulder, but continued to stare at him. As if she was waiting to see how far she could go before his control snapped. Rowan ignored her attention, turning to the two guards and instructing them on where to find the stables. The best way to get underneath Remelle's skin was to ignore her, a strategy he now planned on using to get through this evening. Rowan had thought having Aelin with him might be enough to make him rein in his instincts, but the princess hadn't spoken once throughout the whole ordeal. She just stood a few feet behind him, monitoring the air between him and Remelle with quiet attention.

Later. He'd deal with whatever she thought of it later, when they were alone and away from his former lovers watchful gaze. As for right now...

Rowan extended an arm in Aelin's direction, but she remained where she was. Hesitating, as if she was rethinking her decision to help him. It lasted for only a moment before she was moving towards him, but it was obvious something was bothering her.

Later. They'd deal with it later.

Rowan _felt_ himself relax as Aelin walked towards him, stopping so close to him that he could have reached out and tucked her against his side if he dared. He momentarily considered doing it, just to see how Remelle would react.

Instead, Rowan forced the current of rage rippling behind his walls of ice to still. Provoking Remelle before dinner even began, especially using Aelin to do it, was a _bad_ idea. One he'd regret later, even if

the expression on Remelle's face would make this entire evening more bearable.

"This is— Elentiya," he said, biting his tongue to stop himself from introducing Aelin with her real name. Even Remelle, who treated the demi-Fae like they were scum beneath her feet, would know the name Aelin Galathynius. He hadn't asked Aelin how she would prefer to be introduced, but the gratitude that flashed across her face told him he'd made the right call. "I'm training her at the queen's request," he continued. "Elentiya, this is Lady Remelle, Lord Benson, and Lady Essar."

Rowan forced himself to carry on with their house names and other courtly bullshit, but Aelin just offered the three Fae a shallow nod in greeting. One that made Remelle and Benson bristle, the former seeming inclined to ignore the princess all together. Only Essar bothered to say hello.

"So you are a half-breed then."

It was a struggle to rein in his growl at Benson's words, his tone. Rowan had noticed it before, the disgusting way the Fae referred to the demi-Fae. It hadn't bothered him then, but it should have. And the way the lord was looking at Aelin, his quick dismissal of her as anything more than a beautiful female—

It was only the hidden fire in Aelin's gaze as she turned to look at Benson that kept Rowan's grip on his self control from slipping. Aelin wasn't helpless. One wrong look from the lord, and she would use her _half-breed_ magic to burn him to ash.

No flames appeared, but Aelin's smile was tight as she said, "My great-grandmother was Fae. So if that makes me a demi-Fae, I don't know."

Rowan didn't miss the look of exasperation Remelle sent his way, and neither did Aelin. _Really, Rowan? You brought a half-breed to meet us? How common of you._

He didn't even spare her a glance, not as Aelin shifted closer to his side. As if she might brush her arm against his. She didn't, but the movement didn't go unnoticed by Remelle. Her eyes narrowed in disdain as she studied the princess, and Rowan contemplated telling Aelin to demonstrate her new control over her magic then and there.

Thankfully, Essar chose that moment to intervene. "Well, I look forward to hearing about your adventures, Rowan— and how you came to be here, Elentiya. But first, I think I should very much like a bath and something to nibble on."

She shot an apologetic look in Aelin's direction. "I'd kill for anything chocolate right now."

Half an hour later, Aelin and Rowan were back in his room inside the fortress. They'd left the Fae at the baths after showing them the rooms they'd be occupying during their stay, rooms the demi-Fae had been more than happy to vacate if it meant staying out of the visitors way. The second they'd returned, Rowan had started sharpening his knives in a futile attempt to curb the anger simmering beneath his skin, while Aelin had just thrown herself onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion. She was still lying there thirty minutes later, her head propped up on a hand, when she said, "So, you and Remelle."

Rowan had been waiting for her to broach the subject, had been bracing himself for this conversation ever since he'd learned Remelle was coming to Mistward, but it didn't stop the snarl from escaping him at the sound of her name on Aelin's lips. A mistake. This entire evening was a mistake, just like Remelle.

"Remelle was... a very, very big mistake," he said, choosing to ignore the gleam in Aelin's eyes.

"Seems like she doesn't think so."

Rowan glared at her over his shoulder. "It was a hundred years ago."

"She acts like you cast her aside this winter," Aelin said, turquoise eyes dancing with amusement.

Rowan ignored that too. This was one topic where Aelin had the upper footing, and he really didn't want to get into it with her. Not now, not ever. "Remelle just wants whatever she can't have. A condition many immortals suffer from to stave off boredom," Rowan said, turning back to the hunting knife he'd been sharpening.

"She was practically clawing at you," Aelin said, eyebrows raised.

"She can claw all she wants, but I'm not making that mistake again."

"Sounds like you made that mistake a few times," Aelin quipped, every word dripping with wicked amusement. She was baiting him, and Rowan was falling right into the trap.

He sent another vicious glare in her direction. "It was over the course of a season, and then I came to my senses."

Aelin let loose a low, drawn-out sound of understanding and Rowan's control snapped. Stabbing the knife he'd been sharpening into his worktable, he sprang to his feet and stalked across the room. He paused at the edge of the bed, leaning over Aelin where she lay sprawled across the sheets. She didn't balk at their sudden proximity, or at the anger rippling off Rowan in waves, even though he was close enough to see the flecks of gold in her turquoise eyes. Lazy, relaxed flames flickered in her gaze, illuminating the amused satisfaction lining her beautiful features. This close, Rowan could smell her— jasmine and crackling embers. The roaring in his head quieted at the scent, but it wasn't enough to erase the image of the disdain and disgust in Remelle's eyes when she'd looked at the princess from Rowan's memory.

"One laugh," Rowan growled, his eyes not leaving Aelin's face. "Just one laugh, and I'm going to dump you in the nearest pond."

Aelin was shaking with the effort to hold in her laughter, joy and amusement shining in her gaze. If not for the rage boiling beneath his skin, Rowan would have been at a loss for words at the sight.

"Don't. You. Dare," he snarled, leaning down until they were close enough to share breath. "If you—"

The door opened, and any amusement or irritation Rowan might have felt was replaced with lethal rage. He went utterly still, a low snarl escaping him at the unknown threat. Whoever had decided it was okay to burst into his rooms without knocking was about to be—

"Oh!" Remelle stood in the doorway, eyes wide in an expression of actual shock this time.

Rowan didn't have to imagine what it looked like. Aelin sprawled so casually on the bed with him leaning over her, too close to be innocent. Remelle was likely already forming theories, deciding how best to use this to her advantage.

And he didn't give a damn.

"What do you want?" The words were barely more than a snarl, and Rowan didn't bother to move away from Aelin as he said them.

Remelle didn't say anything for a moment, her eyes roving over the room that was unmistakably _theirs._ Noting the little signs of Aelin's presence that graced it: the brush on the dresser, the ribbons she used to tie back her hair, her small boots beside Rowan's at the doorway, the clothes they'd both left strewn throughout the room in their hurry to get dressed earlier. Remelle's gaze caught on the undergarments Aelin had left thrown over a chair and Rowan was honestly surprised she didn't combust on the spot.

"I wanted to catch up," she said, ignoring Aelin's presence entirely. "But it seems you are... occupied."

"We'll talk at dinner," Rowan said, every syllable cold and clipped. She had no right to barge in here, to expect him to want to speak with her. Especially with Aelin—

Aelin, who was already sliding out from under him and making her way towards the door. "I have to go help Emrys with the meal, actually."

No attempt, none at all, to hide the wicked gleam in her eyes as she said, "Why don't you stay, Remelle?"

The glare Rowan gave her would have ended the lives of most men where they stood, but Aelin didn't give him a chance to protest before she was out the door and down the hall. Leaving Rowan to deal with Remelle. Alone.

Rowan had survived five centuries of war and pain and grief. He'd traveled to kingdoms and empires long forgotten, had killed and maimed and tortured until it became as easy as breathing. He'd fought in countless wars, had walked on and off killing fields without a scratch.

And this dinner, this gods-damn evening, was going to be the thing that killed him.

It had started off well enough. Rowan had arrived at the dining hall and sat at the head of the table, waiting for Remelle to take her seat on his right and Aelin on his left as they'd planned. Remelle, however, with impressive efficiency, had steered Benson into the seat meant for Aelin and placed herself at Rowan's other side. Leaving Aelin to choose between the viper-like female or the leering male as her seating partner.

She chose Benson.

Rowan held his tongue throughout the entire ordeal, even as Remelle moved her chair imperceptibly closer to his and her scent reached him: some stuffy, floral perfume she'd likely donned back in her rooms. It was an effort to contain his growl when Aelin took her seat at Benson's side, the male not even trying to pretend he wasn't staring at her. Rowan cut a lethal glare in Benson's direction, relishing how the lord stiffened. If Aelin noticed, she didn't let on.

No, Aelin didn't even look at him as she raised her glass of blood red wine to her lips and took a long sip.

It was the sight of Aelin— the lithe, muscled form she moved with her newfound Fae grace as she sat at Benson's side, the way her golden locks gleamed in the candlelight, that forced Rowan's earlier conversation with Remelle to the front of his mind.

 _Rowan was going to kill her._

 _As soon as they resumed training, he was going to murder her. Twice maybe, just for the look she'd given him before shutting the door to his rooms and leaving him alone with his former lover. Oh, she knew what she was doing, and Rowan was going to make her pay for it later._

 _Now, however, was an entirely different story._

 _Remelle was still standing in the doorway, frowning at the place Aelin had been. Then, she turned to face him, her red lips curving upwards into a wicked smile that sent Rowan's blood boiling. "Is this considered part of her training, too?"_

 _It took five centuries worth of restraint for Rowan to resist throwing her out the door without another word._

 _"Get out"._

 _Remelle clicked her tongue in mock disapproval. "Is that how you speak to me these days?"_

 _"I don't know why you bothered to stop here, or what you expect of me—"_

 _"I heard you were here, and thought I'd say hello and spare you the company of half-breeds. I didn't realize you'd taken to them so much."_

 _Half-breed. A primal part of Rowan went utterly still at the pure dismissal that accompanied the term, the disdain and disgust. The urge to kick Remelle out then and there, to let her leave Mistward believing whatever she thought she'd interrupted when she'd burst in here was so strong it took Rowan a moment to bury it. Remelle thinking he and Aelin were... together was one thing. Maeve thinking it was another. He didn't want to consider what she would say, what she would do. Which was why he needed to figure out what role she played in Remelle's visit._

 _"And who was it that told you I'm here?"_

 _"Maeve, of course. I complained to her that I missed you."_

 _It didn't surprise him, not for a moment. The question was how aware Remelle was of her position as Maeve's spy._

 _"As your friend, Rowan, I have to say... the girl's rather beneath you."_

 _Well, that answered one question. Maeve hadn't told Remelle who Rowan was training. Her ignorance would have been amusing, if not for the lady's arrogance in saying it. Her position as his friend even more so._

 _"One," Rowan growled, "you're not my friend. Two, it's none of your business."_

 _Perhaps letting Remelle leave with her assumptions wouldn't be the worst thing in the world._

 _Rowan might have gone through with it, if not for the ire that sparked in Remelle's gaze. It guaranteed she would spend the rest of the evening making life hell for the princess, without having any idea what manner of predator she was provoking._

 _Aelin starting a brawl with Remelle would be more satisfying than Rowan cared to admit, but any bloodshed that occurred this evening, verbal or physical, would get back to Maeve._

 _So Rowan forced himself to say, "There is a shortage of bedrooms here, and we've had to share quarters as a result."_

 _It was partially true, though it did nothing to explain what Remelle had walked in on. Once again, Rowan couldn't bring himself to care. Remelle could tell Maeve whatever the hell she wanted about his relationship with Aelin, as long as it kept the princess from splattering the lady's blood on the walls._

 _"Well, I suppose that's good news for Benson."_

 _"What." The roaring in Rowan's head vanished, fading to a dull murmur in his ears._

 _"He has needs that must be attended to, and finds her attractive enough. Maeve said it would be more than fine if she—"_

 _Wrath. Pure, lethal wrath was all Rowan felt as the words hit him, the insinuation behind them settling underneath his skin like a layer of grime. Maeve. Maeve had suggested that Aelin was available for—_

 _"If Benson lays a finger on her, he's going to find himself without his insides."_

 _Rowan meant every word, hoped Benson would try something, just to see the look on the lords face when he plunged his knife into the males stomach._

 _His rage stumbled as Remelle cocked her head and said, "Honestly, Rowan, what do you think most of the half-breeds wind up doing in Doranelle?"_

 _Any response he might have prepared died in the wake of her words. He'd known the role demi-Fae played in Doranelle's society, had perhaps guessed at how far it went it on some subconscious level but..._

 _Remelle shrugged, either oblivious or choosing to ignore the rage lining every part of Rowan's body. "Benson will be gentle with—"_

 _"Benson looks twice at her, and he dies. He looks twice at any female in this fortress and he dies."_

 _The words, the claim he'd laid down without thinking, were barely more than a growl, but Remelle understood._

 _Still, her smile was a satisfied, vile thing as she purred, "I'll make sure the warning is conveyed."_

The memory had Rowan's rage roaring back to life, and he was still fighting to control as Emrys served the first course. It smelled delicious, a roast chicken soup the cook had prepared, but Rowan barely tasted it. Not as Remelle wrinkled her nose at her plate and turned to Aelin.

"So, you're from Adarlan's empire."

The words were clipped, short. Likely as close to an open dismissal as Remelle dared.

Rowan's entire body tensed as Aelin took a slow, drawn out sip of her soup. "I am."

"I thought I detected the accent— Adarlan and... Terrasen, am I right? They do mangle their words over there so brutally. I doubt even years here will cure you of the boorish accent."

Rowan might not have been breathing as Aelin took another too slow spoonful of her soup. If Remelle thought she could win whatever fight she was provoking with the princess, she was mistaken. The only question was how long Aelin would be able to control herself before she retaliated. And what Rowan would do if it came to that.

Rowan could have thanked the gods for Essar when the female spoke, intervening before he could and make the situation irrefutably worse. "I find the accent quite charming, actually," she said, shooting a glare in Remelle's direction.

The dig the lady made at Essar's upbringing in retaliation was lost on Rowan, fading into the background as Benson hummed his agreement with Essar and gave Aelin a long, hungry look. Rowan didn't dare move a muscle, didn't speak, as he fought to smother the rage tearing into him like shards of ice. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aelin shift uncomfortably under the lords greedy gaze. The fury that flickered in her eyes told Rowan precisely what the princess would do to the lord if he so much as touched her, but—

 _"Honestly, Rowan, what do you think most of the half-breeds wind up doing in Doranelle?"_

 _"Benson will be gentle with—"_

 _"Maeve said it would be more than fine if she—"_

"The beastly cook boiled this soup!"

Remelle's word's jerked Rowan's attention away from Benson, but did nothing to cool the rage that roiled in his gut at the insult. That was it. Damn the consequences, Rowan wanted her out. Now. He'd rather face Maeve's wrath than listen to one more second of Remelle's—

A voice, lovely and warm, shattered the rage clouding Rowan's senses. "You grew up in the countryside?"

Aelin was addressing Essar, but her words still served as an anchor in the sea of unending wrath he'd plunged into. Rowan's rage stumbled at the sound of her voice, it's tone firm and placating. He hadn't realized how tense he was, that every cord and muscle had been ready to move at the smallest inkling of provocation. Rowan forced himself to relax, even breathing becoming easier as he focused on Essar's response to Aelin's diffusing question.

The princess didn't look at him as she listened to Essar, but Rowan knew she'd sensed the rage ripping holes in his control and intervened before he'd lost it entirely. That's what he'd asked her to do, wasn't it? To keep him from starting a brawl that would get back to Maeve?

Remelle began speaking, snapping some snotty, vicious comment about Essar's inability to find a husband Rowan immediately dismissed but—

"Husband?" Aelin asked. "Not— mate?"

An ancient, broken part of Rowan recoiled at the word, the memories of his failure it held. He felt Aelin's attention on him, as if she could sense the effort it was taking him to resist plunging into the abyss her question had opened up inside of him. Where a woman's voice beckoned, her screams tearing into his soul.

Remelle's voice brought him back to the brightly lit, tension filled dining hall, the sound of it grating against his ears in the wake of Lyria's screams. "Of course not," she said, each syllable lifted in superiority. "A mate is rare— most Fae don't find them. So, we marry."

"What if you marry, then you find your mate?"

Rowan sometimes forgot how little Aelin knew about their world. He grappled for an explanation, but the words caught in his throat.

Benson beat him to it, and Rowan leashed his wrath at the sight of the hunger in the lords eyes as he studied Aelin. "Wars have been started for that. But if that is the case, it is treated very delicately."

 _If delicately was the right term to describe Fae males tearing each other to bits._

Essar seemed inclined to agree. "It's a mess, is what he means," she said, the only one of the three Fae whose tone didn't imply she thought less of Aelin for not knowing the information. "A male will feel the need to kill any challenger to his mate, even if that challenger is already wed to her. Even if they're in love. For all our refinements, there are still instincts that can't be controlled."

Aelin nodded, scraping the bowl of her soup in the silence.

But Remelle wasn't done, her red lips forming a vicious smile that had Rowan bracing himself for whatever poisonous words she was about to hurl Aelin's way. "But as a half-breed, you won't have to worry about such things. Finding a mate is even rarer for those with diluted blood— and none of us would marry you, anyway."

A snarl tore from Rowan's chest, low and vicious, the table trembling with the force of it. The rage he'd fought to control all evening hardened into something raw and lethal at Remelle's words.

The rage rolling off of him and the sudden tension between Remelle and Aelin sucked the air from the room. The lady's expression hadn't changed, comfortable in her position of superiority and entirely unaware of the predator she was provoking. As for Aelin...

The princess had gone utterly still, staring at Remelle as if she was contemplating what form of fire she'd use to burn her to ash.

Remelle remained oblivious to the flames that crackled to life in Aelin's eyes. So did Benson.

Essar was the only one with enough sense to catch on. Perhaps it was because of the similar gifts she possessed, or just that her ego wasn't interfering with her ability to read the fire in Aelin's gaze. She murmured Remelle's name in warning.

Remelle didn't listen. Instead, she turned to face Rowan and said in the Old Langauge, the serpentine smile not leaving her lips, _You wouldn't, would you?_

Rowan stopped breathing, wrath creeping up his throat like hoarfrost. Remelle knew, the bitch _knew_ Aelin couldn't understand what she was saying. Even without the insinuation behind her words, it was enough to make Rowan see red.

When Rowan didn't respond, Remelle turned to Benson and crooned, _I already know your thoughts on the matter. Does she match Maeve's description?_

Rowan couldn't hear past the roaring in his ears. It blocked out whatever Benson said in response to Remelle's wicked, vile question. Good. He was sure anything that came out of the lord's mouth would have him following through on his promise to Remelle to tear out the male's insides.

When Rowan finally found the ability to speak, his words were barely more than a snarl. _"Speak the common tongue, Remelle."_

Remelle put a hand on her chest in a mockery of an apology. "Sometimes I forget— it's not everyday I'm in the company of half-breeds."

His anger now a dull roar in his head, Rowan focused on anything else but Remelle as Emrys and Luca brought out the next course. The only other person who seemed as on edge as him was Essar, who had gone pale as she surveyed the two women seated beside her. She, at least, whether through common sense or her own gifts, now understood the kind of fight Remelle was provoking.

It wouldn't have mattered what Rowan said to her regarding his relationship with Aelin. The moment Remelle had entered his room and seen him leaning over the princess, this evening was doomed. Not that it ever had a chance of going pleasantly.

In a futile attempt to salvage the dinner, Rowan served himself from the platters of roasted meats and vegetables Emrys had prepared. Delicious— as always. Aelin seemed to agree, turning to where the cook lingered by the stairs and nodding her head in enthusiasm. Emrys blushed, grinning, and Rowan opened his mouth to offer his agreement when—

"Rowan, it must be a trial for you to have to eat this day in and day out."

Remelle's word's regarding the food felt sharper than her remarks about Aelin's bloodline, if only because Rowan saw Emrys face fall as he heard them.

"I eat better here than I do in Doranelle," he said, fighting to contain his growl.

"There's no need to be nice on account of the help," Remelle said, throwing her napkin on top of her plate of untouched food. "If they don't learn what we like, whatever will they do in the capital?"

 _Honestly, Rowan, what do you think most of the half-breeds wind up doing in Doranelle?_

Remelle's word's found their mark. Behind him, Rowan heard Emrys slip back downstairs into the safety of the kitchens to escape the female's barbed insults. He opened his mouth to snap a reply, but Aelin beat him to it. Her control, apparently, had finally run out.

"The next time you insult my friend, I'm going to shove your face into whatever plate is in front of you."

Her voice was quiet in a way that promised violence. Remelle blinked once, shock and fury rising in her gaze. "Well, I _never_ -"

Aelin's eyes were already sparking with golden flame. Essar hissed Remelle's name in warning.

The lady didn't listen. Like a viper striking its prey, her hand darted out and latched onto Rowan's forearm. The touch burned, her possessive grip like a brand of ice against his skin.

"You mean to let her insult me like that?" Remelle hissed, eyes sparking with outrage. "To make threats against a member of the royal household?"

"Get your hand off me," Rowan said with the same lethal quiet Aelin had used moments before. Remelle hadn't heeded it then, she would now. Unless she wanted to find herself without a hand to grab people, with or without their permission.

Still, Remelle's hand remained on his arm as she turned to Aelin and said, "You are dismissed from this table. Get out."

If Rowan hadn't been so focused on not snapping the ladies bones, he might have told her those were the exact words he'd been waiting to say to her all evening.

Aelin didn't even seem to hear the order. Her eyes, now orbs of living flame, were locked on the pale hand gripping Rowan's arm.

"Take your hand off him."

The raw command in her voice, the pure rage and fury it contained, was lost on Remelle. Along with the fire now burning in Aelin's gaze.

"I can do as I please, and if you have any sense, you'll vacate this hall before I have you whipped for your—"

The word's were the end of both Rowan and Aelin's patience.

Fire erupted in the dining hall, and Remelle's scream echoed off the stones as Aelin's flames encased her. A conflagration of red and gold that wrapped around Remelle's pale form, all the way to the hand still gripping Rowan's arm. Not burning, but an impressive enough sight that all the color drained from Remelle's face as she turned to Essar and growled, " _Release me._ "

It was a testament to Remelle's arrogance that she hadn't figured it out yet. Or maybe her stupidity, considering Aelin was literally spitting flames across from her.

"It's not my magic," Essar said, eyes flicking in Aelins direction.

Every part of Rowan stilled as Aelin summoned a lick of heat to enter her flames. It barely reached him through the sleeve of his jacket, and even then it was only a pleasant warmth, but Remelle began sweating. The lady turned, eyes wide as she realized her mistake.

Another rush of heat flooded the layers of fire Aelin had wrapped Remelle in, and the female finally removed her hand from Rowan's arm.

Aelin's eyes didn't stop burning, the pure rage in them world ending. When she spoke, there was no mistaking her words as anything other than a command. "If you ever raise a whip to anyone, I will find you, and I will make sure that these flames burn."

Remelle, gods damn her, didn't take the hint. "How _dare_ you threaten a lady of Doranelle," she hissed, the amount of fury in her voice almost impressive considering the flames still encasing her.

Aelin's answering laugh wasn't one of amusement. When she spoke, her eyes burned molten gold. "The next time you touch Rowan without his permission, I will burn you into ashes."

Not a threat, but a promise. The words burned hotter than her flames, the claim she'd laid down striking Rowan like a physical blow.

Aelin might as well have been the queen she dreaded becoming as she turned to Benson and said, "And if you look at me or any female like that again, I will melt your bones before you have a chance to scream."

Benson was smarter than Remelle, the lord only daring a nod before averting his gaze.

Rowan didn't blame Essar for going pale when Aelin turned to her and snarled. "You keep everything you learned here to yourself."

The female nodded, and Aelin at last turned to face Rowan. Her flames kept burning, even as she cocked her head and said, "I defer judgement to you, Prince."

It was a struggle to contain his smirk, to conceal his wicked amusement and satisfaction at the sight of the three speechless Fae. Essar's golden skin had still not regained its color, Benson seemed inclined to tear his _own_ eyes from his skull before looking at Aelin, and Remelle...

Remelle had finally gone quiet, was barely breathing in her cage of flame. Oh, this was better than Rowan could have hoped for. It didn't make up for the disgusting, vile things she'd said, but he would never forget the expression on her face when Aelin's flames had encircled her. It almost made this disaster of an evening worth it.

Rowan considered Aelin's words for a moment, weighing the barbed insults Remelle had spoken against his desire to finish this dinner as quickly as possible. Finally, he said, "Release her and let's eat."

The princesses cage of fire disappeared the moment he gave the order.

In the absence of Aelin's flames, the loss of their heat, silence fell. No one daring to speak, to move, in case it shattered the fragile peace Rowan had ordered into existence.

Silence, until Remelle leaned over the arm of her chair and vomited on the floor.

The sounds of Remelle's retching filled the smoke tinged air, Essar and Benson making no move to comfort her where they sat pale-faced and silent.

Across the table, Aelin met his gaze and grinned. A wild, wicked thing, the flames once again trapped within her turquoise eyes flickering with glee. The smile didn't leave her face as she lifted her fork and took a bite of her food.

Rowan grinned right back.

"If I never see them again, it'll be too soon."

Aelin's voice settled into the quiet like a layer of crackling embers, her breath brushing Rowan's face in a puff of warm air. An hour after turning his former lover into a living torch, the princess was still speaking and breathing in shades of fire.

The two of them had collapsed into bed the moment they'd returned to Rowan's rooms, and now laid beside each other in the quiet, still darkness. This close, Rowan could see the individual flecks of of gold in her turquoise eyes.

He let out a low laugh, fighting to conceal his grin at the irritation in Aelin's voice as he said, "I thought you liked Essar."

Aelin had told him she'd spoken with the female in the kitchens before the meal and her... fiery explosion, and that it hadn't been an entirely unpleasant conversation. Rowan had preceded to ask her if she regretted scaring Essar into silence, which had only earned him a wicked grin from the princess. Still, out of the three Fae, Essar was the only one Aelin had managed to mention without spitting flames out of her eyes. Rowan hadn't asked if it was the females personality, or because she'd told Aelin about her similar affinity for fire.

Aelin sighed, reaching up to run a hand through her unbound hair. It glowed softly in the moonlight, sun kissed gold turned liquid silver. "I do," she said, scowling. "But you should have heard her trying to get me to talk in the kitchen."

"About what?"

"About you. About our— relationship. I think you'll go home to a host of unpleasant rumors," Aelin said, tracing an invisible line along the palm of her hand. Over the twin scars she'd carved there, the promises they represented.

Essar wasn't one to gossip, but Rowan had a feeling news of their... relationship would spread anyway. Likely from a red lipped, serpentine mouth who's owner was currently seething with revenge somewhere in the fortress. Still, he said, "I think the status of our relationship will be the least of the rumors after tonight."

After Aelin had engulfed a lady of Doranelle in flames without so much as blinking.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rowan saw Aelin hesitate, her bottom lip turning white under the pressure of her pointed canines. "Essar said that you— you and Lorcan once decimated a city together."

 _Sollemere_. The word clanged through Rowan like a death knell. How the hell had that even come up in their conversation?

He hissed out the name on a breath of air, biting back the curses that tried to follow.

"I've never heard of it," Aelin said, a small frown forming at the corners of her mouth.

"That's because it doesn't exist anyone," Rowan said, shoving back the memories that threatened to rush to the surface of a place so vile and wicked even Maeve had found its rulers and people disgusting, and then asked him and Lorcan to eradicate them from existence.

At the tone of his voice, Aelin turned to face him. The moonlight filtering in through the open window illuminated her face, glinting off the stray lock of hair that fell across her cheek. Rowan felt a strange desire to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.

"You wiped it off the map— literally?"

Rowan pinned Aelin with a long stare, debating how much he should tell her— how much he dared to. He'd told her bits and pieces of his past before, but Sollemere was... different. He knew she could handle it, even if he chose to describe the horrors he'd witnessed but... could he? Could he handle it if she decided his past, the things he'd done, were too much to handle?

Finally, Rowan said, "Sollemere was a place so wicked, full of monstrous people who did such unspeakable things even Maeve was disgusted by them. She gave them a warning to stop their ways, and said if they..." he trailed off, clenching his jaw to halt the growl that tried to escape at the thought of the atrocities he'd witnessed before he and Lorcan had turned the city to ash and dust. "There are some acts that are unforgivable— and I won't stain this room by mentioning them. But she swore to them that if they continued to do it, she would obliterate them."

"Let me guess: they didn't listen."

Rowan loosed a breath of air. "No. We got out as many children as we could with our legion. And when they were safely away, Lorcan and I leveled it to dust."

The decimation of Sollemere was only a fraction of five centuries of death and bloodshed, and had been effectively blurred by the days Lorcan and him had spent gorging themselves on women and booze afterward. Still, Rowan would never forget the looks on those children's faces as they'd been led from the city. Haunted and empty, an echo of his own soul in every pain dulled gaze.

"You're that powerful," Aelin said, breaking his train of thought. It wasn't a question, not really, and there was nothing but quiet curiosity in her voice, but Rowan felt the implication her words held.

He risked a look at Aelin, but didn't find any judgment or fear in her gaze. Strange— it was still so strange to trust someone this much, to be able to share these parts of his past.

"You don't seem shocked by it," Rowan said, careful to keep any emotion from creeping into his voice. Still, Aelin seemed to understand the unvoiced question.

"You've told me plenty of harrowing stories," she said. "If what these people did was so awful that even you won't repeat it, then I'll say they had it coming."

Rowan ignored the ache the words caused, the easy acceptance of the violence and brutality he'd described to her. "So bloodthirsty," he murmured, eyes flicking from Aelin's mouth to her unflinching turquoise gaze.

"Is that a problem for you?" The words held enough bite they could be seen as a simple jab to his teasing, but he knew it was more than that. A genuine question, the same one he'd asked moments ago.

"I find it endearing," he said, grinning as Aelin reached over and gave his shoulder a light shove. He caught her hand before she could pull it all the way back. Her skin was warm against his fingers, decorated with scars and matching calluses.

"You could do that, you know," Rowan murmured, tracing a pattern into the back of her hand. Aelin shivered beneath his touch. "Make an entire city burn."

Aelin tensed, shadowing gathering in her eyes. "I hope I never have to."

She _could_ do it if she wanted to, could encase people and buildings and temples as easily as she had trapped Remelle tonight in her makeshift cage of fire. All it would take was a bit more control, a bit more confidence in her magic. It would certainly be a sight, maybe even more so than seeing her set Remelle on Fire. Still, Rowan shared her hope that she would never have to use that particular skill. No matter how wicked Sollemere's inhabitants had been, an act like that left an stain on your soul that couldn't be erased.

"So do I," he said, lifting their intertwined hands to study the scars littering Aelin's flesh like bones on a battlefield. "But I'll never forget the look on Remelle's face when you shot fire out of your mouth and eyes."

"I did not," she hissed, eyes sparking with indignation.

"Part woman, part dragon," he said with a grin.

"I didn't spew flames."

Rowan laughed, a low, rumbling sound that settled deep in his chest. "Your eyes were living gold."

Those eyes narrowed, molten metal hardening into raw steel. "Are you going to reprimand me?"

Rowan brought their joined hands back down to rest on the bed between them, but didn't let go. "Why should I? She was given fair warning, she ignored it, and you followed through. It follows the Old Ways, and you had every right to show her how serious you were."

Serious about the blatant disregard and disgust directed at her and the demi-Fae in this fortress. The remarks about her bloodline, the open taunts Remelle hadn't bothered to conceal behind pretty words. No, Aelin had been perfectly justified to burn the female to ash.

Aelin frowned, considering his words. After a long moment, she said, "It scared me— how in control I was. How much I meant it. It scared me that I wasn't scared. It scared me that..."

Aelin paused, raising her eyes to meet Rowan's stare. She _had_ been in control tonight, the anger Remelle had stirred up overpowering the fear of her magic. The cage of fire she'd created was far beyond her skill level. It was honestly impressive. And the look in her eyes, the raw command in her voice as she had spoken to Remelle and Benson... Aelin had meant every word of it. If Remelle or the lord had made any move against him, against the inhabitants of this fortress, the princess would have turned them to ash on the wind.

For some odd reason, Rowan felt like he should thank her. Even though _she_ had ended up starting a brawl with Remelle. The information would get back to Maeve, even if it was just in the form of court gossip. Either way, the queen would understand what it meant. Aelin was close to mastering her magic, and she and Rowan had formed some sort of bond outside of student and teacher.

Rowan brushed the thought aside, shutting down the possible outcomes that flooded his mind. Speculating about what awaited him in Doranelle was pointless, and would only make him more pissed off.

He opened his mouth, grappling for the words to thank Aelin for her help, but the princess wasn't done.

"It scared me that..." Aelin hesitated as her eyes met his, the gold lined turquoise like sunlight on ocean waves. Steady and calm, hiding the tempest below that was waiting to be unleashed. _It scared me that I've come to care so much about you that I'd draw that sort of line in the sand. It scared me that I would burn and maim and kill for you, and yet— at the end of the day, you still belong to Maeve, and there is nothing I can do, no amount of burning and maiming and killing, to keep you with me._

Aelins confession hit him like a blow to the chest, knocking the air from Rowan's lungs, the word's an echo of the thoughts he'd been trying and failing to keep at bay. Aelin had seen every broken part of him, and hadn't run from it. Even though she likely knew what would happen once he brought her to Doranelle and returned to Maeve's side. He'd likely never see the princess again, unless she made an alliance with Maeve. If she was smart enough to figure out his gift from the cave.

Still, it wouldn't be the same. He'd be a commander in Maeve's inner circle, while Aelin would be a young queen on the way to reclaiming her kingdom. Even if she decided to fight for her birthright, it would never be like this again.

An ache formed in his chest at the thought, different from the hollow numbness usually encasing it.

Rowan let go of Aelins hand, laying it down gently on the bed between them. Then, before he lost his nerve, he reached up and brushed his fingers against her cheek.

Aelin leaned into the touch, closing her eyes and letting out a small sigh. Rowan didn't need to say anything, not when he knew Aelin felt the unspoken words in the gesture.

 _I know._

Two days after the party of Fae nobility departed from Mistward, Aelin and Rowan had fallen back into their usual routine. Still, Rowan couldn't stop thinking about the conversation he'd had with Essar when he'd gone to see them off, unable to shake the undeniable truth of her words.

 _The morning after their dinner with the Fae nobility, Rowan had slipped from his rooms at the crack of dawn to see the party off. He'd let Aelin sleep, not wanting to risk another one of her delightful outbursts._

 _It had been the right call. When he'd come down to the courtyard, it was clear Remelle was still seething over the incident. Rowan hadn't been able to hide his smirk at the way she kept jumping at the smallest sounds, as if the princess might jump out from behind a corner and start breathing fire._

 _Rowan had chosen to ignore her, and for once Remelle hadn't tried to force any interaction between them. Whether it was her way of punishing him for siding with Aelin or she was just embarrassed, Rowan hadn't cared._

 _He ignored Benson too, who was still avoiding everyone's gaze. Good. He'd had enough of the lord to last another ten lifetimes. And as for Essar..._

 _The female still looked paler than usual, as if the events of the previous evening had permanently drained the color from her copper skin. Her eyes were wide as she surveyed the courtyard, likely trying to spot Aelin amongst the crates of food and supplies the guards were unloading._

 _Rowan hadn't approached the party until they'd mounted their horses and begun moving towards the wards. Even then, he only addressed Essar. He didn't bother to acknowledge Remelle, not wanting to risk a situation where she might regain her confidence and ignore his personal boundaries again. This time, it wouldn't be Aelin who snapped._

 _Thankfully, Remelle seemed incline to agree._

 _She didn't say anything as Rowan reached out and grabbed Essar's reins. He had contemplated allowing them to leave without a proper goodbye, but this warning needed to be conveyed._

 _"Let's hope last night was the most eventful of your journey," he said, shooting a pointed look at the three Fae._

 _Remelle huffed, but managed to hold her tongue. Benson kept silent as well, staring down at his saddle as if it contained the secret to his immortal existence._

 _Essar's gaze drifted in the direction of the fortress, as if she could sense the princes sleeping behind its walls and said, "I do not think any of us will forget last night anytime soon." *_

 _Rowan was inclined to agree. It had been difficult to keep it hidden from Aelin how throughly her display of flames had stunned him. Not just because of the control she'd demonstrated, the raw power and ability, but because of what the flames represented._

 _A threat against anyone in this fortress, against him, would be answered with fire and flames. Aelin would not tolerate threats made against her, or those she thought of as her own._

 _Rowan included. Aelin would— she had gone to the mat to defend him. The claim she'd laid down last night alone..._

 _Essar knew. She had understood, more than anyone, what the events of last night meant. And that Aelin was far more than some commoner. If she told Maeve..._

 _The party had begun to move out, Remelle and Benson following their guards without a second glance in Rowan's direction where he remained at Essar's side, clutching the reins of her horse. "Name the price of your silence," he said, his voice low to prevent the departing Fae from overhearing._

 _Essar's eyebrows rose. "You think I would run to the nearest gossip and tell them Aelin Galathynius is training here?"_

 _Yes. No. Rowan didn't know Essar well enough to be sure. He'd interacted with her only at formal events, and while she and Lorcan had been... involved. She was a good female, kind and clever, but it wasn't enough to risk Aelin's safety. He didn't care what she said to the socialites in Doranelle, even though Aelin might, but rather what she was planning to tell his aunt when she returned._

 _"You know what I'm talking about."_

 _Essar's eyes narrowed, and she almost seemed to scoff at the insinuation. "I would not run to Maeve, either. Remelle will tell her that the girl threw a tantrum and attacked her without provocation— she'd never admit to any of the truth behind it. Or figure out who she really is. And Benson... leave him to me."_

 _It couldn't be that easy. "And your price?"_

 _"There is no price, Prince," she said, inclining her head and giving him a sad, almost pitiful, smile._

 _Rowan's hands clutched the leader straps of the bridle in an effort to remain in control. "Why?"_

 _Essar looked at the rest of her party disappearing into the trees, then back at the fortress. "We have known each other for a while now. Through all the centuries, I have never seen you present another female as your equal— as your friend. And I do not think you did it because of who she is."_

 _Rowan opened his mouth to say... something but no words came out. He didn't know what to do with his mouth, his hands, beside pray Remelle and Benson were out of earshot as Essar continued._

 _"I would not take that gift away from you, Rowan. Because it is a gift. *She is a gift— to the world, and to you."_

 _Rowan's fingers went slack on the reins, and Essar prodded her horse into a walk. She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes dancing. "She is going to fight for you, Rowan. And you deserve it, after all this time. You deserve to have someone who will burn the earth to ash for you."_

 _He barely heard Essar's request to give Lorcan her regards. Not as it took every piece of control for Rowan's face to remain blank, to keep up the icy exterior, even as his heart pounded in his chest in time to Essar's word's._

A gift— to the world, and to you.

She is going to fight for you.

 _He knew she was right, that it was true._

 _And it terrified him._

Two days later, his conversation with Essar was still preoccupying Rowan's thoughts. He knew it was a waste of time, that it was foolish and unnecessary to constantly be turning her words over in his head but... he couldn't help it.

They'd stuck to him like burrs, prickly and uncomfortable and hard to detach. Still, he couldn't find it in himself to hate them, to hate the thought of Aelin regarding him as _hers_.

Essar's words had been like a hand wiped across frosted glass. Rowan hadn't allowed himself to consider what his relationship with Aelin meant, not really. It had changed since her burnout, had been changing for a while now. Despite himself, Rowan knew he cared about her. The fear he had felt the night of her burnout... gods, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been _afraid_ like that. Not since...

Lyria.

Lyria, who Rowan had barely thought about over the past few weeks. He'd always buried those memories, the reminders of his failure, and tried not to think about them but... it was different now. He no longer had to consciously avoid thinking about her, about her grave on top of his mountain. The pain was still there, an old, comforting feeling, but it had faded slightly. The thought was enough to make Rowan feel sick.

And no, he didn't think of Aelin... like that. Yes, there _had_ been moments where he'd... considered it, but it didn't matter.

As long as Lyria laid buried beneath the earth any feelings he had towards any female, romantic or otherwise, would be a betrayal.

A betrayal. That's what his feelings for Aelin felt like. A betrayal to Lyria, to three centuries of emotionless, ruthless killing. Of _having_ no emotions, good or bad.

Whatever Rowan was going to do, he needed to figure it out. Needed to figure himself out, for Aelins sake as well as his. Soon.

If Aelin sensed any of his inner turmoil, she didn't show it. Even if he sometimes caught her staring at him with an odd expression on her face. As if she was trying to decipher the whirlwind of thoughts inside his head.

Good luck to her, considering he couldn't make sense of it himself.

He was studying a report Vaughn had sent him when she walked into his room, the smell of chocolate and nuts trailing her. Rowan turned, and didn't know whether to laugh or growl at the sight of Aelin.

She was smiling and there was a strange, new emotion on her face. Wait— was Aelin _blushing_? Before Rowan could comment on it, he saw the small, misshapen cake she was holding.

It was then he noticed the smudges of flour decorating her clothes, the faint streaks of it on her face.

"It took me two hours to make this damn thing, so you better say it's good," she said, that sheepish grin not leaving her face.

Aelin set the plate down on his worktable, cutting a slice of the... cake? It looked fine, he supposed. There was a line of lighter frosting between the layers, with darker chocolate dripping down the sides. Rowan didn't entirely know what he was supposed to do, what to say.

He chose the least harmful question he could think of. "Chocolate hazelnut cake?"

That conversation seemed like a lifetime ago, overshadowed by the Fae visitors and Aelin engulfing his former lover with a column of flame. Still, Rowan remembered how Aelin had acted when she mentioned it, the shadows that had overtaken her gaze. The fact that she'd chosen to make it herself...

"You have no idea how hard it was to get the ingredients. Or some sort of recipe," Aelin said, grabbing Rowan' hand to stab his fork into the slice of cake she'd cut for him. "I haven't even tasted it yet. Emrys looked like he was going to faint with horror."

Rowan just stared at her, his refusal already on his lips. Aelin sighed and shoved the plate in his direction."This is the favor you owe me," she said, her gaze softening slightly. "Just _try_ it."

The glimmer of emotion in Aelin's eyes, the trust and the vulnerability, complicated matters. He _had_ promised her a favor, even if this was the last thing he'd had in mind.

Rowan fixed her with a long stare, a look that would have sent anyone else running, but Aelin just bit her lip and glanced down at the cake. It was enough that Rowan's restraint snapped, broken by the nervous hope in her gaze. It was over a piece of cake but... still.

Rowan took the fork from Aelin, studied the slice of cake for a moment, and took a bite.

He chewed and swallowed but by the time the icing had dissolved on his tongue, he had come to one conclusion: it was awful. Rowan had eaten plenty of harrowing things as a soldier, but one bite of Aelin's cake was enough to make him want to hurl.

He looked up at the princess to tell her, only to find Aelin already awaiting his verdict. She was eyeing him and the fork in his hand, bouncing from foot to foot in anticipation.

Despite the foul taste lingering in his mouth and burning its way down his throat, Rowan forced a grunt of pleasure and took another bite. Then another. Until there was only a crumb of cake left on his plate.

When he was done and fighting the urge to vomit, Aelin said, "I told you it was delicious."

She gave him a triumphant, joy-filled smile as he set his fork down. She reached out to run her fingers through his hair, but Rowan grabbed her wrist. His rose from his seat, bringing his face dangerously close to hers. Her scent flooded his senses, jasmine and crackling embers, as he leaned closer and said, "Now we're even."

With that, Rowan stood and walked out of the room. He was three steps down the hall when he heard Aelin's fork scrap against the plate, followed by the sound of her swearing and spitting.

Rowan was still smiling when he opened the door to the bathing room and hurled his guts up.

 **Woo! I'm so happy this is done. This chapter took forever to write and edit for a ton of reasons, mostly because I wanted to make it really good for you guys. I hope you all enjoyed this cute, fluffy Rowaelin content. Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming. In case I don't get another update up before 2019, I hope you all have a great rest of your year. I know I already said this, but thank you for standing by this story. We're almost at 30k views (insane, I know) and I just... I don't understand. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for all the love you've given me. I adore all of you SO MUCH. Your support means the world to me, more than I can ever express.**

 **Also, I included certain portions of this where Rowan's POV was already written by SJM, and I realize they are very similar to what she wrote. It's really hard to write it differently, and I wouldn't normally include it but I didn't know how many of you had read the Target exclusive and wanted everything to make sense.**

 **Story time: I changed the POV style four times for this chapter— first, third, first, and then back to third. I enjoy writing in third person a lot, and feel like it captures Rowan's voice better so I'm going to try and transfer this story into third person. I'm currently rewriting this, and am hoping to have chapters 1-5 updated before the new year and up on AOF. The next chapter will be up no later than January!**


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